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Two Copies Received 

APR. 12 1901 

Copyright entr/ 
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[ COPY 3. 

■ 3 

Copyright, 1901 


J. B. LipPiNCOTT Company 



IPrcfatori^ IRote 

My friend, the late George William Curtis, suggested 
to me that I put the remembrances of my life into print. 
Others joined in this advice. I do this not alone be- 
cause of the suggestion of friends, but as a slight ac- 
knowledgment of the many acts of kindness which I have 
experienced from others. I love my kind, and my kind 

has been faithful and loving to me. 

E. D. G. 

Xt0t of miustrations 


Mrs. Gillespie in her Home. From photograph by Mathilde 
Weil. (Table appearing in this picture is the chess-table 
used by Benjamin Franklin) Frontispiece 

Benjamin Franklin. From miniature painted by Duplessis at 

the request of Louis XVI. Now owned by Mrs. Gillespie . 15 

Deborah Franklin, Wife of Benjamin Franklin. From 
portrait by Pratt. Now owned by Rev. Dr. Hodge, of 
Wilkesbarre 16 

Francis Folger Franklin, Son of Benjamin and Debo- 
rah Franklin. Painted in Philadelphia in 1736. Artist 
unknown. Now owned by Mrs. E. D. Gillespie 18 

Sarah Bache, Wife of Richard Bache, and Daughter of 
Benjamin and Deborah Franklin. From copy by Sully 
of portrait by Hopner. Now owned by Mrs. E. D. Gillespie 20 

Letter by Benjamin Franklin to his Son-in-Law, Richard 

Bache 22 

Richard Bache. From copy of portrait by Hopner painted by 

his daughter, Mrs. Thomas Sergeant 25 

Mrs. Gillespie in Quaker Dress, 1864. From photograph 

by Gutekunst 115 

Ticket for "Boston Tea-Party," Philadelphia, Decem- 
ber, 1873 283 

Mrs. Gillespie in Martha Washington Costume, Decem- 
ber, 1873, Tea-Party. From photograph by Gutekunst . 285 

H JSoot^ of IRemembrance 



What lot can be more dreary than to come into the 
world on a " wash-day"? On the 15th day of January, 
1 82 1, a thin baby girl with a long nose, the seventh 
child of her parents, was born ; and that thin baby was 
myself. My nurse (Betsy Briggs) always told me I was 
cross because of my wash-day experience, and because 
the whole family was on that day " put out" by my 
inopportune advent; be the cause what it may, I con- 
tinued " put out" for at least the first five years of my 
life. I knew that I was cross and that when all else 
failed to appease me, my father, whose office was in the 
house where we lived, would be sent for. I always met 
him with a smile and said, " Dada, didn't we see the 
monkeys?" alluding with pleasure to a visit to what 
in these days would be considered a very tiny menagerie. 
I would then add, " Put on my little tim * bonnet and 
my ankle shoes and lef f us go again." My father was 
especially tender and indulgent to young children. A 
package of macaroons, which I called " gamuts," was 
ahvays kept beside my crib, and in the night when I 
awoke and called out " Dada, gamut," up rose my dear 

* Trimmed. t Let. 


father, gave me a gamut, and retired to his bed, while I 
fell asleep munching the cake. My mother tried vainly 
to break up this habit, but when my father sometimes 
came up-stairs at ten o'clock at night and asked his 
" Debby," my mother, whether there were gamuts, if she 
answered " no," he would put on his boots and go to 
Parkinson's and get a fresh supply. So much for my 
earliest training, which may, or may not, account for 
the excellent digestion with which I have alwa3^s been 

I was about four years old when I heard from the ser- 
vants that I had had a little brother who had died before 
I was born. I rushed to my mother and insisted upon 
seeing him, kicking and screaming when told I could 
not. As she was powerless to subdue my agony, she 
sent for my father, who when he came said, " My darling, 
would you like to go to Mrs. Alercier's for a glass of ice- 
cream ?" My screams ceased, my eyes were dried instantly, 
and in the depths of one of Mrs. Mercier's tall glasses 
was the sorrow for my brother's early death buried. 
About this time in my life I was taken with my brother 
" Dick," younger than myself, to Christ Church to be bap- 
tized. The Rev, Dr. Abercrombie performed the service. 
There was a small congregation present, weekly prayer 
days not being so religiously kept in those days as they 
are now. After the service the granddaughters of 
Bishop White came to my mother to admire the beauty of 
my brother, while I. poor scrawny child, was not noticed. 
I felt a pang, I suppose of envy, in spite of the solemn 
ceremony through which I had so lately gone. 

Shortly after this my mother put on glasses for the 
first time. When I saw her wear them I wept, and 


implored her to take them off, assuring her that no one 
hved more than a week after putting on glasses. 

I ought perhaps to say that I was born on the spot 
where the Public Ledger building now stands. When 
I was a few months old we moved into Walnut Street 
between Fifth and Sixth Streets, where we lived for 
eighteen years. We had a large garden and our child- 
hood was most happy. I had one brother and four sis- 
ters older than myself, and was petted by them all. I 
frequently reproved my sisters if I saw them, as I 
thought, misbehaving, and once when one of my sisters 
found fault with me, I said, " You had better take the 
bean out of your own eye before you take the mope out 
of your sister's." But my advice was not always so 
wise. My sister Ellen had a lemon-tree given her when 
she was about twelve years old, and I, four years her 
junior, assured her it would never bear lemons unless it 
had fresh air and exercise ; we had then waited two weeks 
hoping to see at least one lemon growing. Under my 
supervision she dug up the tree, and then wrapping a rag 
about its roots, lest it should take cold, she ran with it 
three times around the garden and replanted it. It is 
needless to say that the tree died under our fostering 

As we grew older my brother Dick was my playmate ; 
he taught me to roll hoop and to play marbles, and though 
he assured me that, being a girl, I could not expect to 
" roll hoop straight," and that the same cause prevented 
my " knuckling down" in marbles, still many is the game 
I have played with him and his friend " Willy Rawle," 
and though I then accepted as a fact and with good grace 
the assurance that, being a girl, I was not the equal of 


a boy, I have lived to change my views. One of our 
chief amusements was " Doing eternity." We sat in 
the back haU of our house in two large arm-chairs facing 
each other ; we then raised our right hands, and pointing 
our forefingers at each other, we described circles in 
the air with our fingers, making a buzzing sound with 
our lips, and this was kept up as long as possible, so 
that we might in some faint degree comprehend the vast- 
ness of eternity. We were healthy little people, and 
enjoyed our lives, though we then had never seen an 
anthracite coal fire, and knew nothing of a hot-air fur- 
nace. We used to watch the wood-sawyers from the 
windows of my father's office, and when a log was cut 
and ready to be thrown into the cellar, the sawyer called 
out " Commin' again, piler," and we speculated as to 
whether the piler had had time to escape from the coming 

The happiest time in the year was Christmas. Dick 
and I had a trundle-bed in the room with our parents, 
and one " Christmas eve," after seeing our stockings 
hung with our names over them, we went to bed. In 
the night we awoke, and I saw on a small table (the 
table on which Benjamin Franklin always pla3^ed chess), 
which I now own, some glittering objects. Our curiosity 
getting the better of us, we rose very quietly, and found 
a diminutive tea-set for me and a toy fiddle for Dick. 
Desiring to examine these precious articles, we, without 
noise, seated ourselves on two footstools in front of the 
Franklin stove, and by the dim firelight, and the feeble 
ray of a taper burning in a teacup of oil, we looked at 
our treasures, but a look was not enough. Dick wanted 
to hear his fiddle, and one tone sufficed. Up sat my 


father and mother in their bed and ordered us back to 
ours. Our bedfellows for the rest of the night were the 
fiddle and a cream-jug; our happiness was complete. 

Our home stood, and still stands, opposite to Inde- 
pendence Square, or, as we used to call it, " State us 
Yard." The jail was then next door but one to our 
house, and we had our little shoes at one time made 
there by the prisoners. The moment for being " meas- 
ured" was terrible to me. When I heard the big gate 
shut behind me I had a fear it would never reopen, and 
my whole heart went out in pity for the man who meas- 
ured us, dressed in his suit of gray homespun. One 
morning we were told that five prisoners had escaped 
during the night from the front windows of the jail 
on Walnut Street. Their plan of escape, which was 
perfectly carried out, was this. The five men slept in 
one room fronting on Walnut Street. One of them 
secured a piece of steel, which during working hours 
he made into a small saw. He sawed two of the bars 
of the front window through, beginning his work as soon 
as they thought the keepers asleep for the night. A piece 
of strong thread was attached to his toe, the other end 
of which was held by a man who lay upon the floor with 
his ear to the crack of the door. When this man heard 
the tread of the night watchman he pulled the string, 
and the sawing stopped until all was again quiet. The 
bars were thus sawed, and through the opening made 
the men escaped, one of them, a very stout man named 
Jock Smith, leaving part of his skin sticking to the bars. 
I was very glad, however, when Betsy told me that 
five men were free, and grieved when I heard some of 
them were retaken. 


I was very much afraid of dying and being forgotten, 
and asked my mother whether she did not think if I 
died the drays in the street would stop running for a 
few days ; I was sorely distressed when she told me she 
feared no such consideration would be shown. Since 
then I have learned that nothing stops on account of 
death. We close our shutters in Philadelphia, decorate 
them with black, and sail for Europe. On our return 
we remove the dingy mourning from the stationary but 
sorrowing shutters, and begin our lives anew. 

The first event which I remember connected In any 
way with the history of our country was the arrival 
of General Lafayette in 1825. The enthusiasm of the 
people was great. We were taken to the house of a 
friend to see the procession, and I always thought Gen- 
eral Lafayette sat in a gig, but my childish impression 
was corrected afterwards. He sat in a barouche drawn 
by four horses. Li the evening the whole city was illu- 
minated. My mother went out to see this fine show 
with her elder children; my father remained at home, 
fearing to trust the snuffing of the candles to the servants, 
lest the house should take fire. I was by his side, going 
from one window to another, watching the snuffers as 
they did their work, and admiring the tin stars in which 
the candles were placed. 

These stars afterwards spent many years in our cock- 
loft, and after I knew the history of the Revolution they 
were to me sacred objects. 

A musket without a lock, once the property of Paul 
Jones, was intrusted to my mother by her nephew (after- 
wards Admiral Harwood) for safe-keeping. It was 
placed In the corner of one of our garrets and we were 


forbidden to go near it, such was my mother's fear of 
fire-arms. We used to take off our shoes and stockings, 
creep up the garret stairway, open the door a crack, peep 
at the gun, and run shrieking down the stairs, showing 
our combined bravery and our disobedience. 

The funeral of a pigeon stands out clearly in my 
memory. We were all in the country for the summer. 
A pigeon died, and we children desired to bury him 
properly. After placing him in an old paper box, we 
began to form in procession, but there were no laity pres- 
ent; all of us had decided to represent the clergy, and 
having turned our blue-and-white-checked aprons hind 
part before, and with the corners flapping in the wind 
in front, we were satisfied that we were in " orders." 
So delighted were we with the success of our plans that 
we dug the poor pigeon up the next day and reburied 
him, being as well contented with the whole service (es- 
pecially with our checked aprons) as is any priest at 
this day with his embroidered cope and stole. So much 
for childish ignorance. 

We boarded during the summer for many years with 
Mrs. Kenney, of Darby. Aiter seeing her daughter Mary 
make butter in a barrel-churn, Dick and I were filled 
with a desire to do likewise, so we rose up early one 
morning, repaired to the spring-house, and filling the 
churn with water, sand, and gravel, began our opera- 
tions. I need scarcely say that the butter never came, 
but Mary Kenney did come, and raised her voice in loud 
reproaches. We were reproved by our mother, but noth- 
ing stung us so sorely as when for weeks afterwards, if 
there appeared a black speck In the butter, Mary glared 
at us and said, " It's the children churning that did it." 


One prominent Philadelphia character interested me 
much when I was a child. This was " Crazy Norah," 
She was a young woman and wore a man's hat, which 
alone in those days would have proclaimed any woman 
to be demented. (Not so now, when sailor-hats are 
worn by the young and fair without let or hinderance 
and pronounced by some ''beautiful.") The rest of 
Norah's costume was a short skirt, closely fitting bodice, 
and in winter a dark jacket. Her history was a sad 
one. Her lover, a seafaring man, was lost at sea, and 
grief turned Norah's brain. She lived at the Quaker 
Almshouse, a spot which can never be forgotten, on the 
south side of Walnut Street above Third. It belonged 
to the Society of Friends. Here were housed and well 
cared for paupers of all creeds. The front of the building 
was brick, each alternate brick being black. Even the 
outside was lovely to my early eyesight, but after enter- 
ing through a wide archway the view was perfect. Here, 
in what is now a closely built part of the city, was a 
huge open space dotted with low cottages covered with 
vines, and surrounded by gardens in which the inmates 
cultivated sweet herbs and flowers; here good house- 
keepers provided themselves with thyme, sweet marjo- 
ram, sage, etc., for winter use. In this peaceful home 
lived Norah when I knew her, and surely it was the 
spot for a troubled mind, for no spot that I have ever 
seen since has given me the feeling of repose which be- 
longed to this our Quaker Almshouse. Norah said slie 
lived there to be near " St. Joseph," meaning St. Joseph's 
Church, which still stands, and will I think always stand, 
in Willing's Alley. Norah, when excited, would speak 
of sin and sorrow at the corners of the streets, and a 


few persons, then thought a crowd, would gather to 
hear her. Sometimes when boys were rude to her and 
attempted to give her saucy advice, she would break off 
from her discourse and turn upon them with always the 
same question, " Would you like to teach your grand- 
mother to suck eggs?" How often has this question 
occurred to me when I have listened to proffered advice 
from those younger and less experienced than I, who 
have travelled a long and sometimes weary road through 

In those days there were at the corners of the streets 
gray wooden zvatch-boxes where the watchmen were 
sheltered at night when not on their beat. These boxes 
were large enough to hold a stove and a seat, and I used 
to wonder whether the stove was big enough to bake 
buckwheat cakes, they being, to my mind, alike a pro- 
tection from and a solace for weariness. When the 
tower clock struck the hour, forth came the watchman, 
cried the hour and described the weather; for instance, 
" Past two o'clock and a starlight morning." 



In October, 1781, my mother was but a few days old 
when my grandmother heard this welcome cry from the 
watchman, " Past twelve o'clock and Cornwallis taken." 

The birth of my mother was a blessing to all who 
were ever connected with her, either by ties of friend- 
ship or blood, but that cry of the v/atchman was a pre- 
sage to the whole world of a new life which promised 
freedom, religious liberty, and above all a home, to the 
downtrodden inhabitants of all countries. That promise 
has since been more than amply fulfilled. Though cor- 
ruption and dishonesty have crept into our country 
through that broad, pitch-covered gate, Machine Politics, 
which none ever enter without being defiled, and though 
we sometimes tremble for the life of our republic, we 
cannot despair while the heart of the nation is true and 
honest. " The best inheritance for nation or individual 
is an honest name; and that inheritance is mine." My 
life was so closely interwoven with the lives of my 
parents, and I must so often speak of them, that I will 
without further delay tell of their history. My father, 
William J. Duane, was born in Ireland, his father was 
an American, born in the State of New York in 1760, 
where his father was a surveyor of lands on Lake Cham- 
plain. My grandfather (William Duane) went to Clon- 
mel, Ireland, with his mother and father in 1771, and 
when he grew to man's estate married Catherine Cor- 
coran in 1778. My father was born in Clonmel on 


F'rom miniature by Duplessis 


May 9, 1779. At an early age he was sent to a school 
there kept by Mr. Carey. Here he formed a friendship 
for three boys, afterwards Colonel Chaloner, Rev. Barry 
Denny, and Frederick W. Conway. These early friend- 
ships continued throughout his life, and although he 
came to this country when he was fourteen years old, 
and never returned to his native land, I have in my 
possession letters from his three friends, written after 
all four hoys had passed threescore years and ten. His 
education was completed in Philadelphia, and he entered 
the Aurora newspaper office, where he for some years 
held the position of sub-editor under his father, William 
Duane, and then met my mother, the second daughter 
of Richard and Sarah Bache (the only daughter of Ben- 
jamin Franklin), My mother was born in Franklin 
Court, a narrow street running south out of Market 
Street between Third and Fourth Streets. Here, sur- 
rounded by a large court-yard, stood the home of one 
of the foremost citizens of our country, and here in her 
grandfather's house my mother drew her first breath 
on October i, 1781. Here, too, she lived until after the 
death of Benjamin Franklin, April 17, 1791. 

My mother w^as called " Deborah" after her grand- 
mother, the wife of Benjamin Franklin. The early his- 
tory of Mrs. Franklin was a sad one. Her father, John 
Read, was a much respected citizen of Philadelphia in 
the early years of the eighteenth century; he befriended 
Benjamin Franklin when he (a youth of seventeen) 
first came to Philadelphia from Boston, but he did not 
smile upon an attachment which grew up between Ben- 
jamin and Deborah, and refused his consent to their 
marriage. Benjamin Franklin was sent to London, and 


during his absence John Read died in 1724. Shortly 
after his death a man named Rogers came with letters 
of introduction to Mr. Read, which Mrs. Read read, 
and then showed many kindnesses to Mr. Rogers, who 
amiably returned the favor by proposing to marry Deb- 
orah. To this proposition Mrs. Read consented, but 
Deborah was unwilling, being true to her lover, Benja- 
min Franklin. Her mother tried to overcome her ob- 
jections, finally using the argument that her lover had 
not written to her since he left the country. Deborah 
at last consented, married Mr. Rogers, and they all made 
one household. After they had been married a year, 
an old English friend of Mr. Read's called upon Mrs. 
Read, and on hearing that Deborah was married to 
Mr. Rogers, he cried out, " That man has a wife in 
England." When Rogers came in, Mrs. Read told him 
what had been told her, but instead of making any reply 
Rogers left the house and never returned. Deborah took 
her maiden name again, the only one to which she had a 
right, and when Benjamin Franklin returned, finding her 
depressed and unhappy, he accused himself of neglect, 
attributing her terrible misfortune to that cause. Shortly 
after, the death of Rogers was reported in Bermuda, and 
having made his peace with Deborah Read, with the 
hearty consent of her mother, Benjamin Franklin mar- 
ried her on September i, 1730. She was a good wife, 
a tender mother, and a faithful friend. Francis Folger 
Franklin was born on June 20, 1732, and died on No- 
vember 21, 1736. His tombstone is beside that of his 
father and mother in the Christ Church Burying-Ground, 
Fifth and Arch Streets, and bears this old-fashioned in- 
scription penned by his father : 


From portrait bv Pratt 


Francis F. 

Son of Deborah and Benjamin Franklin, 

Deceased November 21st, 1736, 

aged 4 years, five months, and one day. 

The delight of all who knew him. 

My grandmother, Sarah FrankHn, was born Septem- 
ber II, 1744. The relations between Benjamin FrankHn 
and his wife were most tender. She was a careful, pru- 
dent wife, agreeing with her husband in all his ambitious 
projects for mankind, and only objecting to William 
Franklin (afterwards governor of New Jersey) being 
a member of the household. But the tenderness of her 
husband towards herself at last overcame her objections, 
and her only child, Sarah, or " Sally" as she was called, 
was brought up to call him " brother." 

The training and education of their daughter were 
carefully watched over by both parents. Thinking that 
the best and most useful occupation for a woman came 
through her needle, Sally was early taught to sew. Her 
father looked after the other branches of her education, 
and was especially anxious that she should never aban- 
don any task once begun, whether through her studies or 
her work. He inculcated the maxim of perseverance 
unto the end until all difficulties should be overcome. 

On one occasion he saw her endeavoring to make a 
proper button-hole. After many efforts she gave up the 
task in despair. Not one word or look of reproach came 
from her father at her failure to accomplish her object, 
but the next day he said, " Sally, I have made an ar- 
rangement with my tailor to have you go to him every day 
at a fixed hour. He will teach you to make button-holes." 


Sally went, and her button-holes are made now by her de- 
scendants of the third and fourth generation. 

Sally was a girl of unusual intelligence and wit. She 
adored her father, was proud of his intellect and of the 
respect in which he was held by mankind, and above all 
was grateful to him for his love and care of her in her 
childhood. The tender relations which existed between 
this father and daughter will be seen in a few extracts 
from a letter written to her by her father on his way 
to England. It is dated 

" Rudy Island, Nov. 8, 1774, 7 at night. 
" My dear Sally : — 

" We reached here just at sunset, having taken in more live-stock 
at Newcastle, with some other things we wanted. Our good friends, 
Mr. Galloway, Mr. Wharton and Mr. James, came with me in the 
ships from Chester to Newcastle and went ashore there. It was 
kind to favor me with their good company as far as they could. The 
affectionate leave taken of me by so many friends at Chester was 
very endearing. God bless them and all Pennsylvania. 

" My dear Child, the natural prudence and goodness of heart that 
God has blessed you with make it less necessary for me to be par- 
ticular in giving you advice ; I shall therefore only say that the 
more attentively dutiful and tender you are towards your good 
mama the more you will recommend yourself to me ; but why 
should I mention ' me' when you have so much higher a promise in 
the Commandments that such a conduct will recommend you to the 
favor of God. 

" You know I have many enemies (all indeed on the public ac- 
count, for I cannot recollect that I have in a private capacity given 
just cause of offense to any one whatever) yet they are enemies 
and very bitter ones, and you must expect their enmity will extend 
in some degree to you, so that your slightest indiscretion will be 
magnified into crime in order more sensibly to wound and afflict 
me. It is, therefore, the more necessary for you to be extremely 
circumspect in all your behaviour. 

" Go constantly to church, whoever preaches. The act of devo- 
tion in the Common Prayer Book is your principal business there, 
and if properly attended to will do more toward mending the heart 



than sermons generally can do. For they were composed by men 
of much greater piety and wisdom than our common composers of 
sermons can pretend to be. Therefore, I wish you would never 
miss prayer days. Yet I do not mean that you should despise 
sermons even of the preachers you dislike, for the discourse is 
often much better than the man, as sweet and clear waters come 
to us through very dirty earth. 

" For the rest I would only recommend to you in my absence to 
acquire those useful accomplishments — arithmetic and bookkeeping. 
This you might do with ease if you would resolve not to see 
company in the hours you set apart for those studies. I think 
you should, and everybody should, have certain days or hours so 
set apart. 

" We expect to be at sea to-morrow if the wind holds, after 
which I shall have no opportunity of writing to you till I arrive 
(if it please God I do arrive) in England. 

" I pray that His blessing may attend you, which is more worth 
than a thousand of mine, though they are never wanting. 

" I am, my dear Sally, your ever afifectionate father, 

" B. Franklin." 

The same confidential and tender sympathy always 
existed between the father and daughter, with only one 
slight interruption. 

My grandmother was engaged, with her father's con- 
sent, to marry Richard Bache, but his business prospects 
not being very bright, the marriage was delayed, and 
afterwards took place on October 29, 1767, before the 
return of Dr. Franklin. 

The following notice of the marriage of my grand- 
parents was published in Philadelphia In the Pcnn 
Chronicle and Universal Advertiser: " Last Thursday 
evening Mr. Richard Bache of this city, Merchant, was 
married to Miss Sally Franklin, a young lady of dis- 
tinguished merit. The next day all the ships in the har- 
bour displayed their colours on the happy occasion." 


After a silence of some months Benjamin Franklin 

wrote a letter to his son-in-law, as follows : 

" August 13, 1768. 
" Loving Son : — 

" I received yours of May 30, and also the preceding letters 
mentioned in it. You must have been sensible that I thought 
the step you had taken to engage yourself in the charge of a family 
while your affairs bore so unpromising an aspect with regard to 
the probable means of maintaining it, a very rash and precipitate 

" I could not therefore, but be dissatisfied with it and displeased 
with you, whom I look'd upon as an instrument of bringing future 
unhappiness on my child by involving her in the difficulty and dis- 
tress that seemed connected with your circumstances, you having 
not merely nothing beforehand, but being beside greatly in debt. 
In this situation of my mind you should not wonder that I did 
not answer your letters. 

" I could say nothing agreeable. I did not chuse to write what 
I thought, being unwilling to give pain where I could not give 
pleasure. Time has made me easier. I hope that the accounts you 
give me of your better prospects are well founded and that by 
industrious Application to business you may retrieve your losses. 
I can only add at present that my best wishes attend you and that 
if you prove a good husband and son you will find in me an 

" Affectionate Father, 

" B. Franklin. 

" My love to Sally. I have sent her by Mr. Coleman, who left 
us this Day a new Watch and Buckles." 

This letter, which shows plainly the power Benjamin 
Franklin had for keeping his feelings under restraint 
and not committing himself In words until composure 
was restored to him, was a great joy to his daughter, 
who showed in many ways her sorrow at having caused 
her father distress. 

Time went on, finding Benjamin Franklin a grand- 
father. His yearning for his own home is shown in 
his letters to his English friends, but his duty to his 


From copy by Sully of portrait by Hopner 


country was in his esteem paramount. His wife died in 
Philadelphia in 1774, beloved by her many friends and 
much respected by the whole community in which her 
life was passed. She lies beside her husband in Christ 
Church Yard, Arch and Fifth Streets, Philadelphia. 

In 1783 Mrs. Bache (Bache was at that time pro- 
nounced Beech), the only daughter of Dr. Franklin, 
wrote to her father as follows : 

" Philadelphia, Nov. 5, 1783- 
" Dear and Honoured Sir : 

" Most earnestly have I wished for the Definitive Treaty to 
arrive and Congress to find a resting place, that they might then 
have time to recall you, and our little family be once more joined. 
The Treaty, I am told, is come, but when Congress will settle no 
one can say, they have lost much of the confidence of the people 
since they began to wander. Your old Friend, General Gates, told 
me they were all splitting and separating, that no man could hoop 
the barrel but you, and that you were much wanted here. 

"Your old friends, the Vaughans, are here, and have taken a 
house in our neighborhood. I promise myself great pleasure in 
their society this Winter. The time they stayed with us on their 
first coming with your recommendation of them has made me quite 
their friend. I never knew a more amiable family. 

" The dear little children are quite well and lively, though they 
suffered from the Summer." 

The letter closes with a full account of the virtues of 
each child, which will not interest those one hundred 
years farther on in life. 

In the year 1787 Dr. Franklin returned from Europe 
for the last time. His home was put in perfect order 
for him by his devoted daughter, who was in his garden 
when told the ship had arrived. She sat down on a 
wheelbarrow and wept. My mother, knowing nothing 
at the age of six of tears of joy, ran to her to ask her 
if she were sorry grandpapa had come home. 


The crowd which followed him to his home was very 
great, and his welcome from friends and foes most 
hearty. The rest of his life was passed in the bosom 
of his family. 

After his return Dr. Franklin entertained his friends 
and strangers who came accredited to him, my grand- 
mother presiding always at the head of the table. Upon 
one occasion he gave a dinner to a party of Indians. 
Among them was one squaw whom my grandmother 
took up-stairs after dinner, in compliance with a request 
made by the squaw to see Mrs. Beech's dresses. After 
looking at these for some time she spied an ostrich 
feather, and told my grandmother she had dreamed the 
night before she had given her that very feather. My 
generous grandmother gave the feather, but afterwards 
confessed that she had parted with it with great re- 

A summer evening tea was once given to a French 
gentleman, and there being many other strangers present 
my grandmother overlooked the guest of the occasion; 
after a time she said to him, " Monsieur Le Coutelyeu, 
shall I send you another cup of tea?" His answer was, 
" I have not a chuse any yet," thus politely endeavoring 
to cover up her oversight. The contrast between the 
manners of the squaw and the manners of the French- 
man is remarkable, the untutored woman thinking only 
of herself, the man of the world respecting the feelings 
of his neighbor. Is this so now? I fear In our time 
the conditions of humanity have been reversed. Our 
Indians would agree with me I am sure. 

Dr. Franklin invented a large arm-chair with a fan 
attached, which was moved by means of his foot, in 

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the present sewing-machine fashion. This chair stood 
in the summer-time on the garden steps, and here he 
sat, rocked, and fanned with much comfort. During the 
last year of his hfe Dr. Frankhn was carried about by- 
two huge men from the prison, and when he kept them 
waiting my mother and her brother Dick used to rush 
for the sedan-chair, and were carried, as they thought, 
in great state around the court-yard. 

Dr. Frankhn was confined to his bed for many months 
before his death. In spite of the great pain which he 
suffered at that time he encouraged my mother to study 
her lessons at his bedside. She sat on " a little stool 
by a Windsor bottomed chair" on which she wrote and 
studied from her spelling-book. When she had finished 
he heard her recite them. If she were dilatory he would 
say, " Debby, is not that line of spelling ready yet?" 
When he found she did not know the meaning of the 
words she spelled he obliged her to look for their defi- 
nitions in the dictionary. 

When she was diligent she was allowed a spoonful of 
currant jelly, which always was beside him, and then a 
game of hide-and-seek with her brother " Dick" fol- 
lowed in the library, which was connected by a " noise- 
less door" with his bedroom, and in the alcoves made 
by his book-shelves the children played. 

When my mother was ten years old this loving grand- 
father died, leaving the family in sorrow, but the joy 
that he had lived, and would never be forgotten (because 
of the benefits he had conferred upon the world), " came 
in the morning," and that " sun of joy" has not yet set, 
though he, who caused it to rise, passed to another life 
more than one hundred years ago. 



Whether my grandmother followed her father's ad- 
vice and turned her attention to " arithmetic and book- 
keeping" I know not, but I do know that she was a well- 
educated woman and that she had the power to rouse 
women, more inert than herself, to effort. The first 
articles of underclothing that were made for our sol- 
diers of the Revolution were cut out by her hands, and 
" sewing-bees" of the ladies accomplished the rest, for 
in those days sewing-machines and army contractors 
were not known. I copy herewith a letter from her to 
her friend Mrs. Meredith. It is without date, but must 
have been written soon after the beginning of the Revo- 

" My dear Mrs. Meredith : — 

" I am happy to have it in my power to tell you that the sums 
given by the good women of Philadelphia for the benefit of the 
army, have been much greater than could have been expected. They 
were given with so much cheerfulness and with so many blessings, 
that it was a pleasing rather than painful task, to call for them. 
I write to claim you as a Philadelphian and shall think myself 
honored by receiving your donation. You are much wanted here. 
The person who takes this may be trusted with your letter and 
the money. I am sure you are so good a friend to the cause, that 
you recommend it to the ladies of Trenton to follow our good 

" I beg you will make my compliments to your good mama and 
sisters and believe me very sincerely 

" Your Friend, 

" Sarah Bache." 


From copy by Mrs. Thomas Sergeant of portrait by Hopner 


My Grandfather Bache was engaged to be married to 
Miss Margaret Ross, of Philadelphia, but the death of 
the young lady on August 19, 1766, prevented the ful- 
filment of his hopes. Before her death she asked him 
to marry her intimate friend Sally Franklin, which, as 
we have seen, he obligingly did, and thus Benjamin 
Franklin became our ancestor. 

Prompted by a feeling of gratitude towards Margaret 
Ross for her suggestion to her lover, and feeling the 
importance of celebrating all " Centennials," I proposed 
to some members of our family that we should have a 
" picnic" on the 19th of August, 1866. 

My suggestion was not carried out, but the day was 
celebrated through an acrostic written by myself, which 
I shall here transcribe : 

M — aiden whose bones have crumbled long ago, 

A — bove thy tomb we bend, yet not in woe ; 

R — egrets we have none that an early call 

G — rim Death made thee ; he comes for all, 

A — nd taking thee, he left us cause for mirth. 

R — caching far back, aye, even from our birth, 

E — ach one of us was glad, for thy finale 

T — was that which made us flesh and blood with Sally. 

R — equiems we sing not, for they're rather dull ; 
O — des we will write with praises ever full ; 
S — onnets and verses to thy name we'll pen. 
S — ally's our grandma, she's the child of Ben. 

My grandmother was handsome and went much into 
society, and in a letter to her father thus described one 
of what were then called " The City Dancing Assem- 

" There were as many as fifty-seven ladies present 


and about the same number of gentlemen." The price 
of a subscription ticket for the Assembhes was £3.15.8. 
Partners for the dances were drawn by lot, and the 
entertainment consisted of rusks and tea. The Assem- 
blies now have reached far larger proportions, but the 
question, which of course cannot be answered, is whether 
the Assemblies of the nineteenth century have given as 
much pleasure as those of the eighteenth. 

Although my grandmother had many friends among 
those who were Tories during the Revolution and whom 
she dearly loved, she was so early trained in democratic 
principles that she never forgot her pride in, and love 
for, the republic whose birth she saw. 

Here I shall record an anecdote in the words of my 
own mother : 

" When we were children we went to Mrs. Pyne's 
school; we were day boarders, and were placed at the 
table with Nellie Custis and Maria Morris apart from 
the other girls, because Mrs. Pyne said, * Young ladies 
of rank must take the head of the table.' Much elated 
at this distinction we told our mother of it with glee, 
when to our dismay she said, ' Give my compliments to 
Mrs. Pyne and tell her there is no rank in this country 
but rank mutton,' — so ended our short-lived honors." 

My grandmother was a woman with a keen sense of 
humor and full of ready wit. When the late Bishop 
White went to England to be consecrated Bishop of 
Pennsylvania some one said to my grandmother, " What 
has William White gone to England for?" "Yeast" 
was my grandmother's answer. 

My grandmother was awakened one night by a noise 
in the room ; sitting up in bed, she saw a rat eating the 


candle which stood in the chimney-place; she aroused 
her husband, who said, sleepily, " My dear, there is no 
rat, it is conceit." " Very well, Mr. Beech, then it is 
conceit with four legs and a tail." Sleepy as he was, 
this witty speech drew my grandfather from his bed, 
and the rat's doom was sealed. 

Dr. Franklin left all his property in the United States 
to his daughter. Thus she inherited two miniatures 
of great value. One was the likeness of her own father, 
taken at the request of Louis XVI., and sent by him to 
Mrs. Franklin. The other was a likeness of the king 
himself, given by him to Dr. Franklin. This last was 
set with two rows of diamonds and a crown on the top 
composed of diamonds. In Dr. Franklin's will he re- 
quested that none of these diamonds should ever be 
worn as ornaments by his daughter or her daughters. 
Two years after his death my grandmother, finding the 
jewels a constant care, decided upon removing the outer 
row and crown and selling them. With the amount thus 
realized she, her husband, and eldest daughter went to 
Europe, leaving her younger daughters, my mother and 
her sister Sally, under the care of Miss Curry, an old 
friend of my grandmother who was then in reduced 
circumstances and gladly took charge of the children 
of her friend. The three sons were placed at school 
in New Jersey. 

My grandmother enjoyed thoroughly her visit to for- 
eign lands. She and her husband were received by her 
father's friends, and also by many who had not known 
him, with great respect and attention. While in London 
she sat for her picture to the artist Hopner. The like- 
ness was excellent, and two admirable copies by Sully, 


and also the original portrait, remain in the possession 
of her descendants. My grandmother had a strong 
objection to having her likeness taken, sa3ang always 
that she knew it would some day be taken to stop a 
hole in " somebody's garret," and she would be seen 
" grinning to a northwester." Oddly enough her pre- 
diction almost came true, for in after-years my mother 
found in the garret of a member of the family the por- 
trait of my grandmother taken when she was a child. 
The canvas was rolled up, and on its being unrolled the 
paint came off in cakes, and it was too much injured 
ever to be restored. 



My mother and her sister Sally, afterwards the wife 
of Judge Sergeant, were very happy during the absence 
of their parents. Miss Curry (afterwards Mrs. John 
Mark), who lived in Lombard Street between Third and 
Fourth Streets (the house still stands), was a gentle- 
woman who had met reverses in fortune without com- 
plaint and who was eminently calculated to have the 
care of children. Upon at least one occasion my mother 
gave her guardian serious uneasiness. One afternoon 
some visitors came in and were asked by Miss Curry to 
stay to tea. The invitation was accepted and my mother 
sent with a small pitcher to buy some cream. On the 
way home she met one of her school-fellows, the daugh- 
ter of a very celebrated actress in those days, Mrs. 
Morris. She instantly invited my mother to go with 
her to the theatre. (The only theatre then in Philadel- 
phia was in South Street near Fourth Street. ) " Come, 
Debby," she said, "mamma is just going on the stage; 
the play is beautiful, and you and I will go in at the 
back door and stand at the flies." This was an invi- 
tation not to be resisted. My mother went with her 
friend, and in the sorrows and joys of the heroine of 
the play forgot her errand. What to her was cream 
for tea in comparison to the scenes she saw ! She never 
once thought she might be distressing her guardian by 
her absence ; her tears flowed, but they came because the 
heroine was unhappy. She held the little cream-pitcher 


tightly, and at last remembered who she was. When 
she left the theatre it was quite dark, and she ran home 
without the cream to find Miss Curry and her faithful 
friend and servitor Rachel in much distress, and the 
visitors displeased at this unforeseen interruption to the 
pleasures of their visit. 

My mother felt guilty, but she bore the punishment 
inflicted upon her, and never regretted this, her first 
sight of a real play. Let those condemn her who have 
never tasted the sweets of an unexpected and stolen 
pleasure. While my grandmother was in Europe my 
mother wrote her the letter which I copy verbatim: 

" Philadelphia, May 28th, 1793. 
" Dear Mama : — I now set down to write to you, it has not been 
neglect I did not write to you sooner but for want of an oppor- 
tunity. I am sorry to let you know that Mrs. Hunter at Woodberry 
is dead, the boys were in town when they heard of her death and 
were very sorry indeed. Mrs. Bedford is also dead your friend. 
Miss Currie's family is increased by two more young ladies. I have 
heard of Mr. and Mrs. Duches' arrival but not a word of any books 
which I was very anxious about, but I must not be impatient but 
wait for a convenient opportunity, little Sally grows a charming 
girl Rachel says she cannot go of an errand without her. I re- 
ceiv'd sister's letter that acquaints us of her doll. She is very 
much pleased at the thought of its opening and shutting its eyes. 
Miss Currie and her children were at Mis Grimes yesterday being 
Monday in Whitsun week. Miss Currie and Sally send their best 
love to you and except the same from your ever 

" Affectionate Daughter, 

"Deborah Bache." 

My grandmother while she was in London persuaded 
a fashionable milliner to consign some bonnets to Miss 
Curry for sale. After my grandmother's return the 
bonnets arrived, and my mother was permitted to help 


Miss Curry mark the prices on the strings of the bon- 
nets. This proved so exciting an operation that after 
the " opening" my mother also helped with the sale, and 
was discovered by the " Miss Cliftons" (two belles during 
the Revolution). They were so horrified at my mother's 
appearance as a " saleslady" that they threatened to tell 
her father, — a threat not to be lightly disregarded, for 
my grandfather was an austere man. 

The homeward voyage of my grandparents was long 
and tedious. One of the passengers (Miss Chrystal) 
came over to superintend the millinery department in a 
large dry-goods shop kept by a Mr. Whitesides. The 
doctor of the ship had one night mixed a dose of medi- 
cine for Miss Chrystal. Not liking the looks of the 
mixture she brought it to my grandmother, saying, 
" Mrs. Beech, taste it. I think it is arsenic." This 
obliging invitation, however, was not accepted by my 

Soon after their return from Europe my grandfather 
bought a large farm on the Delaware River, just below 
Bristol. They called this home " Settle" after the birth- 
place of my grandfather in Yorkshire, England. 

There they lived for the rest of the lives of my grand- 
parents. Here my motlier learned to swim, and on more 
than one occasion swam before breakfast from Bristol 
to Burlington and back with her father and three brothers. 
She afterwards saved the life of her dear friend Sally 
Keene, who fell into the Schuylkill River while they 
were walking together on the edge of the Market Street 
bridge, when it was a low drawbridge. At " Settle" 


there was much to amuse the young people, but for my 
grandmother there was but Httle. She used sometimes 
to go to " Friends' Meeting" on week-days. Once after 
an able discourse from a woman preacher on the duty 
of mankind to treat their Inferiors and dumb animals 
with compassion and consideration, which much Im- 
pressed my grandmother, she saw to her amazement 
on leaving the meeting-house this same preacher beating 
her horse unmercifully. A colored woman who stood 
near said, " Miss Beech, I would not like to be a Quaker 
woman's hoss, would you?" 

My grandmother once promised a poor neighbor some 
soft soap when next she would make it. Meantime, this 
same poor neighbor was caught stealing the rails of one 
of the " Settle" fences for firewood, and was sharply 
reproved by my grandfather in presence of my grand- 
mother. When the soft soap was made, my grandmother 
bearing no malice, sent a bucketful to her erring neigh- 
bor, but In the afternoon of the same day the soap was 
returned, the bucket being deposited at the feet of my 
grandmother, as she sat on the piazza, by a young girl 
with these words : " Miss Beech, aunty says the vounds 
you've made in her feelin's ain't going for to be plas- 
tered with soft soap." " Settle" could boast of few neigh- 
bors among the " gentry" In those days. There was, 
however, one family which afforded much amusement to 
my relatives. Mrs. Palmer and two daughters lived not 
far from " Settle." One daughter, Mary, read a great 
deal, and spoke often of the " Classics." The other 
daughter, Agnes, was a wild country girl, and the mother 
was a kind but unrefined woman. 

My mother and her sister once went to visit Mary and 


Agnes, and found Mary alone, who regretted that Agnes 
had just gone to the grove " FeHcity" to read Young's 
" Night Thoughts." Just then Mrs. Palmer entered 
and said, " I am sorry, girls, that Aggy is not here. I 
sent her out to get me a mess of poke." This so amused 
my mother and her sister, that on repeating the story 
to my grandmother she instantly wrote these verses : 

" In yon magnolia grove she strayed ; 
There you will find the artless maid 
Pensive, alone, her harp unstrung; 
She sits and meditates on Young. 

" Laws, Polly, how refined you talk ! 
She in the bog has gone to walk. 
The reading Young is all a joke, 
She's gone to get a mess of poke. 

" Now, mother, when we wish to soar 
And cut a dash at ' Bellespore,' 
You will repeat some vulgarism. 
What we call nectar you call gism." 

I have heard my mother describe an " All-Hallow 
E'en" party at " Settle," the thought of which amuses 
me, so I transcribe it. My grandfather and grandmother 
had gone to town to pass a few days with Major and 
Mrs. Lenox, and their daughters invited a few young 
friends to spend Hallow Eve, and proposed to try " pro- 
jects." They took long candles, in which were stuck 
pins so placed that when the clock struck twelve (mid- 
night) the last pin would drop out. At this critical 
moment the apparitions of the future husbands of the 
young damsels were expected. The Miss Palmers came, 
Mary dignified and high-flown, Agnes boisterous. When 



all was arranged the candles were lighted, and each girl 
held one without speaking. The silence was long, but 
silence becomes a maiden often best when she is looking 
for a husband. 

Meantime, my uncles had determined that they would 
amuse themselves. They wrapped the five " farm hands" 
in sheets, each one adding to his height by holding up 
a broom. Then my uncles quietly joined the guests. 
After a while the clock struck, a few of the pins dropped, 
and heavy steps were heard in the hall; up rose Miss 
Mary Palmer and cried out, " Angels and ministers of 
grace defend us." Never did words of Shakespeare 
produce greater effect. One young lady fainted, and it 
was long before order was restored and this practical 
and naughty joke explained. The guests stayed all night, 
and went home wiser if not sadder than before. 

Thus did life at " Settle" pass by for this gay young 
household ; the cares of housekeeping pressed not on her 
daughters, but on my grandmother, who had to take 
what the butcher brought in his cart. Once he left for 
her a very tough piece of beef. The next time he came 
she saw him and said, " That was a remarkably tender 
piece of beef you, left for us on Saturday, Mr. Gibbs," 
but he disarmed her by quickly acknowledging his guilt 
in these words : " None of your romancing with me, 
Mrs. Beech." 

A Dutchman named Van Bramm was one of the neigh- 
bors at " Settle," and once when some one was remarking 
on the frequent visits of a Mr. Gordon to a young lady 
in the neighborhood, Mr. Van Bramm said, " Fetter see 
Gordon ash nobody," which proves there was even in 
those days a scarcity of desirable young men, 


There I leave " Settle," which was a happy home for 
those who lived in the eighteenth century. 

When quite a young girl my mother was taken by 
her mother to the funeral of Mrs. N., who had been 
a valued friend to m}^ grandmother. Before the funeral 
left the house, and after those friends had assembled to 
honor the memory of Mrs. N., Mr. N. appeared, and 
striding up and down the room called out, " Oh, sable 
weeds ! oh, doleful black ! oh, what a tale of death Is 
here!" Then calling to his man-servant he added, " Ar- 
temus, see that the clargy all have hat-bands." 

But before long Artemus was again called upon, this 
time to distribute wedding favors. Mr. N. supplied him- 
self with another wife, and was afterwards gathered to 
his rest and the " clargy" to their hat-bands before the 
second Mrs. N. (whom I remember) left this world. 

Dr. Franklin owned a negro slave named Bob, who 
was given his freedom by his will. This man was always 
called " Daddy Bob." He became a drunkard after he 
was free, and finally came back to my grandmother and 
entreated to be restored to slavery. This my grandmother 
declined to do, but she kept him in the house until he 
died. He called my Uncle Benjamiii his " son" and 
my Aunt Eliza his " daughter." After the marriage of 
my Uncle Benjamin he said, " My son married, baam 
by my daughter marry, and Bob go to his long home." 
But before this last home was reached Bob used to say 
to his " daughter" when she went into the kitchen to 
superintend the arrangements for a dinner-party, " Here 
you come in de kitchen, you stuffy your stomach wid 
dis and dat, and when gem'len at table say, ' What will 
you take, miss?' you say, ' De wing of de laak, sir.'" 


When Bob died at " Settle" the whole family mourned 
his loss. 

On the 31st of December, 1805, my mother was mar- 
ried. Her marriage was displeasing to her father, but 
not to her mother. 

My grandfather had been very fond of my father, 
but the marriage of his daughter-in-law to my father's 
father disturbed him on many accounts, and he desired 
to put a stop to any further connection between the 
families. He, however, promised that if the young people 
would wait one year without corresponding or seeing 
each other he would give his consent to the marriage. 
The year passed by, the young people kept their promise, 
but my grandfather was still obdurate, and my mother 
being twenty-four years old, married my father on De- 
cember 31, 1805. Her father did not forgive this step 
for several years; her mother loved my father always, 
and was devoted to the young couple, but my grand- 
father not only fully forgave them after a time, but in 
his will left my mother's share of his property to her 
absolutely, while the shares of his other daughters were 
left in trust. The two miniatures to which I have 
already alluded were also unconditionally left to my 
mother, because she had received during her life less 
in money from her father than any of his children. 

The early married life of my parents was full of 
struggle. My father's work in the newspaper office was 
extremely distasteful to him, and he longed to study for 
the bar. Mr. Charles Chauncey, one of the first Phila- 
delphia lawyers in those days, valued his ability and 
urged him repeatedly to come into his office as a student. 
This seemed impossible, for his family must be sup- 


ported, but my mother thought of, and in spite of strong 
resistance from my father successfuhy carried out, a plan 
which gave him the opportunity to study. My mother 
had her httle parlor turned into a shop, and there for 
three years sold stationery, making enough money to 
support the family very plainly but with comfort. 

My father spent his days in the office of his always 
respected and beloved friend Mr. Chauncey and his even- 
ings in looking over the stock in the shop, seeing wdiat 
was most wanted and auditing the accounts of my mother. 
When he was admitted to the bar the shop was given 
up, and Mr. Chauncey supplied my father with business 
at the bar until he had made a name for himself. 

This page in the history of our parents was always 
regarded by their children as one of the brightest of their 
lives. I have often heard them say those years were 
among the happiest of their married life. When my 
father opened his own law-office, they had two healthy 
children and few cares. 

As my father's means increased and their family grew 
larger more room w^as needed for their little people, and 
cares were added. My father was several times elected 
to the Pennsylvania Legislature, and* in 1819 was the 
author of the resolutions against the admission of Mis- 
souri as a slave State. These resolutions passed both 
houses of the Legislature unanimously. Missouri was, 
however, admitted into the Union with slavery under 
the act of Congress which was called the " Missouri 

In those early days sessions of the Legislature were 
held in Lancaster, and the members drove themselves, 
or were driven, to this field of their labors. My father 


generally drove himself in a gig. On one occasion he 
stopped for the night at the Buck Tavern, and found 
there several of his fellow-legislators. The next morning 
when his horse was brought to him he found the. hostler 
much amused. After my father gave him his fee the 
man said, opening his hand, in which was one cent, 
" This is what the last gem'len gave me," and then in 
a shout of laughter added, " Yaller clay will be upper- 

My father was for many years the intimate friend 
and counsellor of Stephen Girard, the founder of the 
great institution which bears his name. Mr. Girard was 
a Frenchman who settled in Philadelphia when Philadel- 
phia was a seaport town and there carried on a trade with 
his native land. By prudence, economy, and strict at- 
tention he amassed a large fortune, the greater part of 
which he left to found a college for the instruction of 
poor white male orphans. The College buildings now 
have nearly two thousand inmates. Fifteen hundred of 
these are pupils, and many of our most respected citizens 
owe their education to this man, who so long ago fully 
comprehended, and worked for, what is now called " the 
brotherhood of man." 

A part, and I think a large part, of the income of the 
Girard estate comes from " coal lands" in Pennsylvania, 
the purchase of which my father, assisted by a mining 
engineer, superintended. A short time ago, in looking 
over my father's papers, I found a book containing the 
cost of these lands. Some of them were bought at three 
cents an acre, and not one acre of the first purchase cost 
more than six cents. 

I was ten years old when Mr. Girard died. I remember 


the day perfectly, Monday, the 26th day of December. 
We were celebrating Christmas on that day, and my 
father was called away from our Christmas dinner to 
say farewell to his dear friend, who was then dying, 

Mr. Girard often used to call for my father to drive 
with him to visit his farm in the " Neck," a spot now 
built upon so closely that it is furrowed with houses and 
no longer with the plough. 

One of us children was generally taken on these ex- 
cursions. A gig was the mode of conveyance, and when 
m}^ father drove, and I went as passenger, I stood be- 
tween Mr. Girard's knees. I much enjoyed these trips, 
for we always came home with a basketful of fruit, and 
the scent of those pears and grapes hangs round me 
still in memory. Mr. Girard was very kind to us, my 
father's " little children," and was thoughtful for us even 
during his last illness. He then desired my father to 
add to his will a codicil making provision for the educa- 
tion of his younger children, my sister Ellen, myself, and 
two brothers, but this my father declined to do, although 
Mr. Girard urged it on the ground of my father's ill 
health and the fear that he might die before we were 
educated, but the whole of his will was, and is, in the 
handwriting of my father, and with his characteristic 
wisdom and sense of honor he declined to add one word 
which would benefit himself or his children, much as his 
dear old friend might desire it. The erection of Girard 
College was a source of much interest and delight to 
my father. He was much pained when an old friend of 
his announced in a public speech that the College would 
be an institution of infidels, because the admission of the 
clergy of any faith is prohibited in Mr. Girard's will. 


The College now speaks for itself through its gradu- 
ates, and if they are infidels, where are the Christians? 
Yet I have heard ministers of the gospel tell, with 
pride, that they had entered Girard College without de- 
claring themselves clergymen. Under these circumstances 
well may each of us ask Pilate's question, " What is 
truth?" My father was one of the directors of Girard 
College for some years, and the names of the first three 
hundred pupils are registered by his hand. Several 
efforts have been made to break the last will of Mr. 
Girard, each one unsuccessful. The building of the 
College was a matter of pride to us all, and I often wish 
that my brothers and sisters could see the buildings now 
built around it for the accommodation of those within 
the outside walls, but I am alone with my memory of 
the past. 



My own school-days began very early. I was six 
years old when I was sent to Mrs. Jordan, who with her 
daughter, Miss Hetty, kept a school for little children 
in Fifth Street, a few doors north of Walnut Street. 
The first day I went to school Miss Hetty gave me a 
spelling-book as a " prize," and truly I thought it a great 
prize, and never dreamed, when I had mastered the lines, 

" As the young lambs do skip and play 
On the green grass at break of day," 

that there were any " other worlds" for me to conquer 
in the English language. 

Age and infirmity (and perhaps the torment of her 
pupils) obliged Mrs. Jordan to give up her school not 
long after I entered it, so that my pursuit of " pot- 
hooks" and " hangers" was transferred to the care of 
a very excellent French lady, Mile. Estelle Beylle, who 
lived in Spruce Street near Fifth. There I learned 
quickly, and I loved my teacher. I had about twelve 
companions about my own age, and we learned both 
French and English. We were well taught, but our 
punishments were peculiar. If we did not know our 
lessons, we were made to stand in the middle of the 
floor with a dunce-cap on our heads, and if we were 
disobedient, we were obliged to wear a mask. I grieve 
to say that on one occasion I submitted to both of these 
punishments at the same moment. 


When our teacher retired from the school forever I 
was nearly eight years old. I was sent with my sister 
Ellen to the Misses McKean, in Third Street below 
Walnut Street. Ellen had been under their care for 
some time, and I trembled when I heard I was to share 
her fate, for I had been told that a threatened punish- 
ment for speaking without permission was a piece of 
sticking-plaster put over the mouth of the culprit, so 
that our lips must remain closed. This was an alarming 
state of affairs for me, for if I had a weakness (and 
perhaps I still have it), it was for talking. 

My first day at this school was one of torture. My 
tongue clave to the roof of my mouth when I set off 
for home with my sister and her friends, the Onder- 
donks. So high were my spirits at being released from 
bondage that I determined to ring at the first door-bell 
which I could reach, and run away before the bell could 
be answered. I said nothing of this plan to my com- 
panions, but in Walnut Street, between Fourth and Fifth, 
lived Mr, John C. I>owber, His door-bell was low and 
his steps high. Up I ran, pulled the bell, and ran off. 
I joined my companions in high glee. But my joy was 
short-lived. Mr. Lowber ran after me, caught my arm, 
and in great, and perhaps just, wrath, asked me whose 
daughter I was. I was speechless, but my sister came 
to my aid and told my father's name. Mr. Lowber 
said he would call and tell my father what a naughty 
child he had. I reached home in penitence and tears, 
but went to the piano to do my duty and practise the 
" Bird Waltz." While I was struggling with the notes 
of this now obsolete and at that moment to me most ago- 
nizing tune, my sister occasionally put her head in at the 


door, saying, " Lib, he is coming now," and then retreated, 
laughing. Mr. Lowber never came, but if playing that 
waltz correctly would have purchased for me freedom from 
care and overcome the dread of displeasing my father, 
I could have gone through it without a mistake; and 
thus it is with all life, — when our hearts are torn with 
anguish we can do deeds of valor w^hich in our placid 
moments would seem impossible. 

I did not remain long with the Misses McKean. The 
school was removed from Third Street to a building on 
Chestnut Street between Twelfth and Thirteenth, called 
the Gothic Mansion. It stood back from the street with 
a garden in front. Some now living may remember it, 
though I find the memory of man not so retentive as 
it used to be. I asked a lady, well up in years, not long 
ago if she remembered some work at the Exhibition of 
1876. She said she was so 5^oung then that she only 
remembered " being taken through a gate into some- 

My next step up the ladder of learning landed me in 
a school kept my Mrs. Oldmixon in ^Vest Washington 
Square, near Locust Street. Mrs. Oldmixon, who was 
an Englishwoman, had been a play-actress of some note. 
She was, to my then inexperienced e3^e, very aged ; I pre- 
sume about fifty. She wore a turban, and her manner 
was generally melodramatic, though at rare intervals 
she showed the comic or tragic side of her nature. I 
stayed with Mrs. Oldmixon until I was ten years old, 
and when I left her I had an indistinct knowledge of 
several things, but I also had a very fair knowledge of 


the French language. Miss Beylle had taken pains with 
my accent. My parents continued my French lessons 
at each school. I liked some of the girls at school very 
much, and played with one or two out of school-hours, 
but I got into one sad scrape from pure thoughtlessness. 
One day Margaretta Burd, Ellen Wilmer, and I were 
deputed to carry to Mary Gibson some school-books. 
The morning session ended at twelve o'clock, and we 
returned for the afternoon at three o'clock. 

Mary Gibson, who lived in Walnut Street above Ninth, 
received her books about half -past twelve, and having 
thus done our duty, Margaretta Burd invited us to go 
to their coach-house and play. The Burds lived at the 
corner of Chestnut and Ninth Streets, in a large, well- 
to-be-remembered house. The coach-house was on San- 
son! Street. Into this we went, and finding two or three 
handsome carriages, two of us pretended to be ladies, 
and one of us personated a coachman. We alternated 
these characters, the coachman being the most popular 
because he had the high privilege of opening and shut- 
ting the carriage-door and letting down the steps of the 
carriage (which in those days was the custom), besides, 
a coachman had the right to be pompous, while ladies 
must be quiet, meek, and submissive (some tilings are 
changed now, carriage-door steps, for instance, if noth- 
ing else). We went to balls, we shopped, went to the 
play, gave fresh air to dolls, and thoroughly enjoyed 
ourselves; even the pangs of hunger were not felt until 
the true coachman came and told us it was three o'clock. 
We hastily put on our bonnets, and I, for one, ran for 
home, for our dinner-hour was two o'clock. 

I found the whole family in confusion on my account. 


I had been searched for in school, at Mary Gibson's, and 
in the State-House Yard, and not having been found, they 
feared I was lost. My welcome was not hearty. I was 
reproved, but ate my dinner, and the afternoon passed 
by. After tea I was requested to withdraw from the 
family circle and retire to bed. This punishment was 
inflicted that I might remember the anguish I had caused 
my parents. But a sorer punishment awaited me still. 

The next morning the family sky was clear and serene, 
and I left home with a light heart and a promise that 
nothing should delay my home-coming. When I entered 
the school-room I found all my friends preparing for the 
lessons of the day. Mrs. Oldmixon stood in the middle 
of the floor, and on seeing me threw up her hands and in 
the most tragic tone I had ever heard said, " Are you 
here? We thought you were dead !" They thought me 
dead ! and after twelve short hours teacher and scholars 
had recovered composure ! The teacher's turban was ad- 
justed on her head as carefully as before the sad news 
came to her; the breastpin, which fastened the turban 
in front, was in its usual place; my dear school-fellows 
were washing their slates or getting their copy-books 
ready, or, worse still, were laughing tG*gether, and I was 
no longer in the world! I never in my life had more 
perfect consciousness of my own insignificance. My 
home punishment faded away, only the terrible present 
moment rested with me, and I wept sore. 

After leaving Mrs. Oldmixon I was placed with Mrs. 
Hughes. She and her husband were English people and 
had a school (an admirable one) at the corner of Eighth 


Street and Goodwater Alley. I was ten years old when 
I was put under their care, and spent four happy and 
profitable years with them. Here my ambition was 
aroused, and I loved my studies dearly. Here I formed 
friendships which have never died, — some, indeed, bless 
my pathway now. I shudder when I think of the sad 
fates which awaited some of those who were then my 
companions, but they are gone where no sadness lives. 

Much that was startling in our family life occurred 
during these four years. In March, 1829, my father 
went to Washington to be present at the inauguration 
of President Jackson. He left home on Sunday morning, 
March i, and reached Washington Wednesday, March 
4, just as the procession moved towards the Capitol. 
His journey was made without accident or detention of 
any kind, and for those days would have been consid- 
ered " rapid transit." My father was appointed by 
Andrew Jackson, President of the United States, to the 
Secretaryship of the United States Treasury. After 
much deliberation he accepted the appointment, but de- 
cided not to remove his family to Washington until the 
autumn of 1832, but before the autumn serious differences 
arose between my father and his chief, and the family 
never went to Washington. 

My father had been in office but a short time when 
General Jackson desired him to remove the United States 
deposits from the United States Bank in Philadelphia. 
This my father thouglit an illegal act. Congress not being 
then in session, and the President not invested by the 
people with supreme power; therefore he gave his rea- 
sons to the President and refused as gently as possible 
to obey. In vain the President urged compliance. My 


father was determined not to act against his under- 
standing of the law. At last the President requested 
his resignation, offering him at the same time the 
position of minister to Russia. This my father also 
refused, and he was dismissed from office. My father's 
course was applauded throughout the country by both 
political parties. The State of Virginia, I remember, 
sent thanks to my father, which so much gratified him 
that he requested that his eldest granddaughter might 
be called after the grand old Mother of Presidents. Be- 
fore this period General Jackson came to our house on 
more than one occasion, and proud was I to sit upon 
his knee ; but that pride paled beside the pride I felt when 
men rose up to support my father in his noble, self- 
sacrificing, and disinterested position, which political 
friends and enemies alike acknowledged to be honorable 
and upright. 

I remember well one large town meeting held in the 
State-House Yard in my father's honor. My father 
addressed the crowd from the steps of our house, and 
being a small man he was obliged to stand upon a chair. 
We looked on the scene from the windows above with 
great pride, but I was sorely distressed -for two causes, — 
first, lest my father should fall from his chair before end- 
ing his speech, and, secondly, I was anxious lest the pole 
of the banner held by William Jackson would enter his 
stomach before the crowd dispersed. Those scenes are 
as present with me now as they were then. 

Roger B. Taney took my father's place as the Lord 
of the Treasury, removed the public deposits, and was 
rewarded by being appointed Chief Justice of the United 


In 1874 I went to Washington to look after the inter- 
ests of the Exhibition of 1876 with my dear friend, Mrs. 
Frank M. Etting, the granddaughter of Judge Taney. 
Passing through the rotunda of the Capitol one day, 
we met Judge Jeremiah Black, who stopped us, saying, 
" The lion and the lamb are lying down together. I 
never expected to see the descendants of William J. Duane 
and Roger B. Taney engaged in the same work. The 
millennium is at hand." 

After my father's return from Washington he began 
to read aloud to us younger children in the evenings. 
As he had formerly taught his elder children in this way, 
he desired to continue the pleasure for himself, hoping 
for profit to us. ^sop's " Fables" we especially de- 
lighted in, and many is the deed which I have done 
myself out of respect to the memory of the " Lark and 
her Young Ones." I have taken part also in the " Man, 
the Boy, and the Ass," and have more than once felt the 
clutch of the legs of some ass about my own throat, and 
so can sympathize with ^sop's man. I have also met 
those who followed the example of the boy who thrust 
his fist into a jar of plums and secured too many plums 
to be able to withdraw the fist. Those followers have 
been known to realize the moral of the fable, " He loses 
all who grasps too much." ^sop was a great teacher. 
Multitudes of human frogs swollen in their own opinion 
to the size of oxen have I met in my path through life, 
and have often, as I recognized them, smiled at the re- 
membrance of my father's reading. He also read Plu- 
tarch's " Lives" to us, but the reading was so dry that 
he proposed the ancient philosophers should be our com- 
panions when we were alone. He afterwards questioned 


us on what we had read, and gave us a dollar for each 
volume if he found we had read intelligently. 

On Sunday evenings he read " The Arabian Nights," 
and we followed the fates of the humpbacked school- 
master and the bandy-legged barber of Balsora with 
far more interest than we felt when we were poring 
over Socrates, Aristotle, and their brethren, though I 
must confess that in life the philosophers have stood 
close to us, and helped us, while the " barber" and the 
" school-master" have been afar off. I often wonder 
whether the young people of these days were as care- 
fully trained to think for themselves as we of the old 
time were, whether the seeds of " higher education" so 
planted in early youth would not bring forth better and 
more lasting fruit than I think it does in these days. 
But this will be thought heresy, so I return to my school- 
days, which went on smoothly, pleasantly, and, I may 
sa}^ with great profit to myself. The method of teaching 
was excellent. We had one lesson which was called 
spelling and explaining, through which we were taught 
to read properly, to spell well, and, above all, to under- 
stand what we read. We read aloud in class by turns 
a certain number of lines in Thomcon's " Seasons." 
Then we closed our books, and spelled and gave the mean- 
ing of the words we had read. We learned grammar, 
arithmetic, geography, history, philosophy, and chemistry. 
All these studies were well taught, and those who profited 
by the instruction given by Mrs. Hughes and her hus- 
band, whom we disrespectfully called " Daddy Hughes," 
are now profoundly grateful to their memory. Now 
some parents seem to leave the education of their children 
almost entirely to their teachers, forgetting that if no 



home foundation be laid the builder of the superstructure 
(the unfortunate teacher) worketh but in vain. Now- 
many anxious mothers occupy themselves with the toilets 
of their daughters, even of those who are school-g-irls, 
and the girls themselves grow to think that the cultivation 
of the inside of their brains matters little if their clothes 
are all right. In 1830 the school-dress consisted of a 
calico frock when the weather was warm, and of a woollen 
frock when it was cold. Our necks and arms were always 
uncovered until we were about fifteen years old. I have 
no recollection of ever feeling cold, though fires were 
only kept in the rooms of the houses and there were no 
hot-air furnaces, and the halls and the stairways were 
cold. Our clothing was simply made, and our dancing- 
school dresses were merino of bright colors and wath 
pleated linen cambric ruffles about the low neck and the 
short sleeves. 

While I was at Mrs. Hughes's school I entered into 
the only successful speculation of my life. Eliza Peters 
and I were partners in the slate-pencil business. Finding 
the daily sharpening of our pencils not only tiresome 
but very soiling to our fingers, we determined (as many 
a speculator has done since) to earn for ourselves im- 
munity from this uncongenial work. Each of us had 
one cent, and this capital we were able to invest in four 
long slate-pencils. These we sharpened carefully, and 
showed them to an admiring crowd of our school-fellows. 
Finally we offered to rent the four pencils for one day. 
The rent was to be met by the payment of shorter pen- 
cils, commonly called " stumps," to the partners of the 
firm. The second day we were able to stipulate that the 
stumps must be " long stumps," and after spending our 


afternoons " sharpening" we retired from business at 
the end of ten days, having each amassed a great number 
of " stumps" and " longs," which we carefully sharpened 
and used for many a day without soiling our fingers. 

When we had recited our lessons we were not allowed 
to speak, but in order to prove that we had " pluck and 
courage" we often broke this rule. One day Eliza Peters 
sat at one end of the row of girls, I at the other. I 
said to my next neighbor, " Tell Eliza Peters I am a 
beauty without paint or polish." This message was 
transmitted from one girl to another until it reached 
Eliza. She smiled and retired under cover of her desk. 
Then I received this message : " I am a beauty with paint 
and polish." I looked at my friend and found her cheeks 
scarlet. She had with the aid of her flannel skirt rubbed 
the skin off, and in the afternoon she came to see me 
with a handkerchief tied over her head to keep two plas- 
ters on her cheeks. ]\lany were the pranks w^e played, 
but we studied faithfully at the same time. 

School began at nine in the morning and ended at 
two. Our summer holidays began July 20 and ended 
on September i. These holidays were spent at a farm- 
house about seven miles from Philadelphia, near Darby. 
We drove there in two carriages over what was called 
the " Baltimore Pike." It was not a cool place, but 
our landlady did her best to make us comfortable on 
a warm day by saying, " It is a piper in town." We 
knew all the neighbors and were afraid of some of them 
on account of their animals. " Polly Owen" had a fierce 
bull. " Abraham Powell" had many " head of cattle," 
and " Lizzie Ball" had a dog which we thought " mad." 
All our fears were groundless, for no accident ever befell 


us from these wild beasts. But have we not all in our 
lives feared wild beasts in some form, and have we not 
afterwards laughed at our fears ? All these our country- 
neighbors have passed from this world, but their houses 
and barns are still standing and they live in memory, 
for they were kind to us. 


I must not forget our butter-man, for he was a promi- 
nent figure in our young lives. He was a Quaker and 
lived about twenty miles from Philadelphia, in Bucks 
County. His name was Lukens; we always called him 
" Friend Lukens." He came to us on Friday once a 
fortnight in a Conestoga wagon drawn by two stout 
horses. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, wdiich he never 
removed from his head, and a long, light-colored great- 
coat nearly down to his heels. When we saw him alight 
from his wagon with a butter-tub (white as snow) under 
each arm we knew that there were more good things in 
his wagon which would be produced later. He brought 
us turkeys, chestnuts, apples, chickens, and sometimes 
pears. His marriage took place about the time that 
my father and mother were married, and he had served 
them steadily and satisfactorily ever since. He called 
my father " AVilliam" and my mother " Deborah." He 
sat at the fire in our dining-room, and while warming 
his feet would express his views on public matters. On 
one occasion he brought some rabbits for sale. When 
I saw the poor things with sticks across their stomachs 
and lying without life, I wept bitterly and implored my 
mother not to buy them. A long time after, when by 
our hearthstone he discoursed on " charity to man and 


beast," I stepped up to him and, peering under his broad 
brim, said, " Yes, but you killed those rabbits." He 
once said, after extolling men, " Yes, Deborah, I believe 
it is generally conceded that men are at the top of the 
tree of life." This remark to my mother enraged me, 
and I said, " Yes, but the women are flying above them." 
He made no reply, but gave me a look which said, " Thou 
art a saucy child." After many years my mother saw 
in one of the papers the announcement of the marriage 
of Lydia, the eldest daughter of Friend Lukens. When 
he made his next visit to us my mother said to him, — 

" Lydia is married, I see by the paper." 

He waited a moment and then said, " I do not know, 
Deborah; she came home on Fourth Day bringing with 
her a man, and they have remained ever since with us." 

My mother then knew Lydia had married out of meet- 
ing, and she expressed the hope that the son-in-law was 
steady, and asked what business he was engaged in. 

The answer was, " He is in a pyanno-forte factory, 
but I am glad to tell thee he does not make the carnal 
parts." My mother knew only too well that all music 
was carnal to Friend Lukens, but his answer nearly 
overcame her gravity. 

Friend Lukens, however, was not alone in the opinion 
that I was saucy. My mother was talking at a small 
party she gave to Mr. Joseph A. Clay, and I, aged twelve, 
had been dancing with a youth who was grown up. 
Elated by the privilege I had enjo3'ed, I ran to my mother 
and, interrupting her conversation, said, " I have had a 
delightful dance." Mr. Clay looked down upon me and 
said, " My dear, you are too precocious." I was stung by 
what I was sure was not flattery, but as I did not know 


what precocious meant, I fled to the nursery, and, reach- 
ing to the book-shelf for a dictionary, found to my dis- 
may that, according to Walker, " precocious" was " for- 
ward," " pert." For years after I could not endure the 
sight of Mr. Clay, and when my sisters would say to 
me, " Lib, here comes your admirer," I would flee away 
and hide myself in a far-off corner. 

I thought the " parties" given by my sisters far supe- 
rior to the entertainments given by myself on my birth- 
day. At their parties no responsibilities rested with me 
as to the entertainment of the guests; I danced and 
quite enjoyed myself. Our carpets were taken up on 
these occasions and a man came to chalk the floor. I 
remember one huge, stiff-looking basket filled with 
flowers which was chalked on the floor of our parlor; 
the man took half a day to do it, and I felt sorry when 
the flowers were scraped away in a few minutes by the 
feet of the dancers. Frank Johnson, a negro, made the 
music on these occasions. He had a band of musicians 
who played well. Occasionally these negroes would join 
in with their voices. I stood near them and remember 
the words and tunes they sang, — 

" You will dance, I will sing, 
And the merry bells shall ring." 

Then bells were rung and there were happy young people 
dancing. Another ditty thus began : 

" If you'll consent to dance with me, 
Hand in hand we'll join the glee." 

I thought the effect of these songs fine, and I presume 
others did also, for " everybody" had Frank Johnson at 
their dances. 


I was sent once to John Allen, a negro caterer, to ask 
him how many stewed oysters and how many pickled 
oysters my mother would need for a given number of 
guests. He was to provide the stewed oysters and my 
mother was to pickle the others. After giving me an 
answer, he thus remonstrated against any "pickled oys- 
ters," saying, " In de spice oyster, miss, your ma can't 
be beat, but den de stew more fashionable." I think, 
however, that John Allen or the fashion did not influence 
my mother then or at any time. She had her oysters as 
she and we liked them. 

Many were our servants. They were capable in the 
years 1830- 1850, and wages were low. A good cook 
could be had for one dollar and fifty cents per week, and 
a " professed cook," able to make " jellies" and " trifle," 
received one dollar and seventy-five cents a week. A 
waitress and a chambermaid cost each one dollar and 
twenty-five cents a week, and a man-servant not more 
than from twelve to fifteen dollars a month. Our wash- 
ing was done in the country and our ironing at home. 

My mother once had a cook whorn she suspected of 
drinking. The woman had her " evening out" once, and 
hearing an unusual noise in the kitchen after her return, 
my mother went to see what was the matter. The 
woman stood in the middle of the floor and said, " Mrs. 
Duane, I do not know what is the matter, but I feel just 
as if I had an umbrella opening in my ear." That um- 
brella gave her no shelter in our house; she was dis- 
charged the next morning. 

I once had a similar experience. Suspecting my cook 


of irregular habits, I told my child's nurse to leave my 
bedroom door open one night, that I might see whether 
the cook went straight up to bed. Finding that her 
path was a devious one, I determined to dismiss her. 
She, I presume, suspected she was watched, and the next 
morning the nurse came laughing into my room to tell 
me that the cook meant to leave, and when she asked the 
reason the cook said, " Mrs. Gillespie's looks is very much 
against her." 

My mother had several cooks who were interesting 
characters, and on telling one of them (Tacey) she 
wanted her to make a Dutchcake, she answered, " I have 
not fruit enough for a whole cake, but I think I can make 
a temporary one." She made the " temporary one," and 
we found it meant a small quantity of raisins and cur- 
rants, while there was a full supply of the rest of the 
ingredients. Once my mother told her cook she was 
going out of town with my father. The intelligence was 
received thus : " Laws, Mrs. Duane, I think you are 
troubled with the budge.". 

My parents were both very careful in the choice of 
the books we read as children. Miss Edgeworth was 
our chief pleasure. I hear in these days that Miss Edge- 
worth is not popular with the rising generation. I am 
sorry for them, for the memory of Rosamond's purple 
jar has kept my spirits up in many a disappointment in 
life. It is true I always thought her mother was cruel 
not to give her a new pair of shoes, and I knew her sister 
Laura was a prig, and her brother Godfrey a cynic; still, 
my way in life has been crossed more than once by prigs 
and cynics for whom Laura and Godfrey paved the way, 
and this perhaps made me more compassionate. I learn 


that Frank in " Early Lessons" is now thought to be a 
tyrant because he made his sister carry the hod when 
they were building their play-house, and would call to 
her, " More mort, Man, more," when he wanted mortar 
and other material; but, gentle reader (if I have one), 
have you never been appealed to in like manner by those 
of the sterner sex? If not, there are those with whom 
I was once associated in a great work who will remember 
the cry that used to come to us, " Ladies, we want more 
money." That cry reminded me, and perhaps more old- 
time people, of " More mort, Man, more," and who shall 
say that we, the women of the United States from 1873 
to 1876, were not moved to action by the remembrance 
of " Frank and Mary." 

Early impressions we carry with us through life. 
" Simple Susan's" sorrow when the brutal butcher tore 
her lamb from her has, I am sure, made hearts that 
loved Susan tender for others in sorrow, and if Lazy 
Lawrence had been as carefully studied thirty years ago 
as he was sixty years ■ ago, the memory of the money 
stolen from the broken flower-pot in the stable might 
have stayed the hands of some of the defaulting financiers 
of the present day, and much sorrow been spared to in- 
nocent sufferers. 

" Elements of Morality" and " Original Poems" are 
also, I am told, obsolete, but there is many a good lesson 
for the young and old in those works — far too valuable 
to be thrown aside. 

I was almost fifteen years old when I was taken from 
Mrs. Hughes's school. I left with great reluctance, for 


I had there learned the importance of study, and I loved 
it. Several of my most intimate friends were trans- 
planted at the same time, and we began a new life with 
Monsieur and Madame Picot, some of us to blossom into 
good scholars, others of blessed memory to fade away 
before their time. With Mr. Picot our studies were all 
in French, and admirably was his school conducted, ex- 
cept that we always had to stand while we recited, and 
though I have seen more than one young girl faint away 
if our algebra lesson with Mr. Picot was a long one, 
still we stood, and were never allowed to go to our places 
until we had thoroughly mastered each " proposition ;" 
but if we were hard worked, our dear old master was 
also. Utter silence was enjoined during school-hours 
(from nine o'clock until one and from three until five). 
If we spoke at all, we must speak in French. If we 
transgressed and spoke in English, we were obliged to 
write ten pages of French in a copy-book. We had very 
long lessons, but if we were industrious we had time 
enough to prepare them in school. I used to recite my 
lessons at home to Betsy, my nurse. Not one word of 
French did Betsy know, but she asked me the English 
and I said the French in my " Dufief," and was content, 
while she seem.ed equally pleased, for she crimped my 
ruffles while I recited. 

After a little more than three years of great happiness, 
I left Monsieur and Madame Picot and studied at home. 
I cannot allow myself to record that I was an angel during 
all these three years. I was a good student and loved 
my studies, and was proud when my master said when 
I recited, " C'est assez, Duane" (for master and pupils 
called us all by our surnames), but my love of mis- 


chief never deserted me, and once nearly brought me to 

We lived next door to a very old lady who spent her 
life in a large morocco arm-chair. She had a son and 
daughter, also, as I thought, aged, — I suppose they were 
about fifty, — and two granddaughters who were my 
school-fellows. One Saturday Mr. Picot called at our 
house and left his card. I took it, and, for fun, wrote 
upon it an invitation to the elders of the family next door 
to a " fancy ball" at the school-house on the next Friday. 
I sent this to old Mrs. K. ; and forgot by Monday 
morning that I had done it. I called for my school-mates, 
and on the way to school they revealed to me that their 
family was invited by Mr. Picot to a fancy ball. For a 
moment I thought they were making fun of me, supposing 
they had recognized my handwriting, but when they 
added that their aunt was at that moment answering the 
invitations I was alarmed, and confessed that I was the 
writer. We ran back to prevent the answer being sent, 
and in the afternoon, having told my mother all I had 
done, I was obliged to make an humble apology to Mrs. 
K., and no sentence from a judge ever fell with more 
force upon the ear of a repentant culprit than did the 
rebuke of Mrs. K. from her morocco chair. For years 
I never saw a morocco chair without being reminded 
painfully of my crime, but it was committed some years 
before I left school. 

My life for a long time was a quiet one, for the sor- 
row which death brings came among us. We were happy 
in our own home with those two powerful agents in 
happiness, music and books. 

The figures of two even then old women come before 


me now; they were the daughters of Mrs. Mecom, the 
sister of Dr. Franklin, and had been born and educated 
in Boston, and why they drifted to Philadelphia I never un- 
derstood. " Cousin Abiah," the eldest, never married, but 
I remember her when she was at the head of a boarding- 
house in Sixth Street near Prune. One of her boarders 
died of a lingering disease and left behind her a closet 
full of medicine, which the relatives of the lady declined 
to remove. With the economy and thrift which belong 
at least to one section of our country, " Cousin Abiah" 
determined on wasting nothing, and began gradually to 
take the medicines so left to her. She told my mother 
one day that she was nearly half-way through with the 
supply, and when my mother remonstrated with her on 
the folly of taking medicine without knowing what she 
was taking, she said, " But I do know ; a great deal of 
it is ' asafcetida,' and although I did not like it when I 
first began to take it, I have now become fond of it, 
Debby, and it tastes just like ' vanilla.' " 

Her sister (Cousin Jane, Mrs. Kinsman) married a 
sea-captain and came, a widow, to Philadelphia. Her 
means were very slender, but she was a most intelligent 
woman and full of wit. Her cleverness is frequently 
spoken of by those who knew and respected her. She 
was a member of the Unitarian Church, and was very 
much beloved by the Rev. Dr. Furness. Once when 
asked by some impertinent friend what her income was, 
she answered, " If I were to tell 3^ou, you would know 
as well as I do myself, but I always like to keep a few 
secrets." She died at the age of ninety-seven. Her last 
years were made most comfortable by relatives of hers, 
the Misses Baldwin. 


On one occasion my mother had a visit from her niece, 
Mrs. Charles Hodge, the wife of the eminent clergyman. 
A small Hodge came with his mother, who, with maternal 
pride, determined that her son should shine in the pres- 
ence of his great-aunt, so she said, " My son, tell Aunt 
Debby what picture you have been to see." " Ugh !" 
was the reply. • " My son, it was the departure of who ?" 
" Ugh !" again was the answer. " Oh, my son, it was 
the departure of the Israelites. Tell Aunt Debby where 
they departed from." " Guinea !" roared the boy, and 
he left with my mother a profound sense of his intelli- 
gence because he refused to be bored. He lived to show 
his intelligence and learning to the world, which will not 
easily forget Rev. C. Wistar Hodge. 

My first experience at a '' show" was to see Mailzel's 
Automaton Chess-Player. The hall in which Mr. Mail- 
zel then gave his exhibitions was in Fifth Street, between 
Prune and Walnut Streets. My father took us all. We saw 
the Chess-Player, and he said " Echec !" and then rolled 
his eyes in a fearful way, but he always won the game. 
He was rolled in an arm-chair to the front part of the 
stage, the chess-table put before him, and an adversary 
asked for from the audience. To thi.s hour I do not 
know how it was all managed. Then came the " Trum- 
peter," who was pushed forward in his guard-tent, and 
sounded the " Reveille," the " Alarm," and the " Retreat," 
each one at the bidding of Mr. Mailzel. Then there was 
a puppet in the shape of a " little Oyster Woman." She 
nodded her head at us and opened her oysters with a 
knife which made a noise on the shell such as a real 
oysterman makes. The oysters were then handed about 
in the audience, to the great delight of the children, for 


they proved to be sugar-plums. Last but not least in 
our esteem of the show came the " Burning of Moscow." 
The city was before us, closely built up and the houses 
all aflame. We quivered at the sight ; saw men, women, 
and children making their escape from the burning build- 
ings with packs of clothing on their backs. The scene 
v/as terrible, and so realistic that when we went to bed 
after returning from the spectacle we hugged each other 
and rejoiced that our house was not on fire. No juggler, 
no show, that I have seen since has ever moved me as 
Mailzel's puppets did. 

My father was fond of a good play, and we were 
frequently taken to the theatre in Chestnut Street above 
Sixth, the second theatre built. The inimitable Irish 
comedian, Power, and the never-to-be-forgotten Burton 
delighted us, but my inmost soul for play-acting was 
never stirred until I saw Fanny Kemble and her father. 
I mention her father last, because he seemed to me the 
setting or frame for the pictures she gave us. Whether 
as Lady Teazle in the " School for Scandal," or as Bianca 
in " Fazio," or in whatever character she took in any 
play, we had supreme delight. Indeed, I loved her. I 
thought of her in school, at home, and in church, and 
many a time have I walked up and down in front of 
the Mansion House (Head's Hotel), where she lived 
when in Philadelphia, in hopes of catching a glimpse 
of her lovely face. Once on a slippery day I was coming 
out of school, and one of the girls said, " There go Mr. 
and Miss Kemble." They were a short distance ahead 
of us, but see them I must, so I ran, and when I came 
up a little beyond them, I turned, ostensibly to wait for 
my companions, but in reality to look into those eyes 


and hear the tones of that voice. I thought that happi- 
ness would be mine; but, alas! my foot slipped and I 
fell across the pathway of my idol. She and her father 
walked around me, and I was left to pick myself up and 
listen to the jeers of the school-girls to add to my morti- 

The seats in the theatre were four benches gathered 
one behind the other, together called " boxes." One 
night my father had taken a box and invited some of 
our cousins to go with us. The play was " The Pro- 
voked Husband," and we children were put upon the 
front seat. A lady next to me had a dress with a very 
large pair of bishop sleeves, which were supported by 
" down stiffeners," as they were called, and which im- 
peded the view of the stage of those behind us. One 
of my cousins., leaning forward, said, " Can you not 
make your nose and chin useful and keep down that sleeve 
beside you?" I was indignant. I knew my nose was 
much too large, but in the joy of the play I had forgotten 
that I had a nose, and this unkind calling my attention 
to it made me wonder which was most obnoxious, my 
nose or my cousin, but I think my cousin carried off the 
prize. % 



Music was the delight of my father and mother. We 
were all taught to play and sing, we had good natural 
talent and were much encouraged by my father, who had 
a delightful tenor voice. Music fifty years ago held a 
higher place in Philadelphia than it does now. I re- 
member well that the great Italian singers, Madame Pe- 
drotti, Fornasari, and Montresor, appeared in the Chest- 
nut Street Theatre and afterwards in the Park Theatre 
in New York, but now much more is done to foster the 
art elsewhere. If our government would consent to 
patronize the fine arts we should, I think, be a happier 

My parents gave their children every educational ad- 
vantage that then lay in their power. My elder sisters 
were taught by the best teachers of that time, and most 
creditably did they acquit themselves in their art, to the 
intense delight of my father especially. 

I was sent to Mr. Dorigo to learn to sing. He then 
had classes in the Musical Fund Hall, and there we 
learned to sing by note. After a time the parents of 
the pupils were invited on Saturday evening once a month 
to " musical evenings," and the music they listened to 
was fine, though no doubt each fond mother thought 
she heard her own child's voice above all the rest (after 
the manner of the mother crows). We sang choruses, 
duets, and solos, and some of the soloists were distin- 
guished in after-years in private life. Miss Drexel (after- 


wards Mrs. Lankenau) had a beautiful soprano voice, 
and Miss Boswell, of Kentucky (afterwards Mrs. Elisha 
Riggs, of Washington), a rich contralto. After some 
time our master thought we were sufficiently well drilled 
to have a public examination of our powers. He invited 
every musician of any note to be present, and after we 
had sung many of the lessons we had studied the pro- 
fessors were requested to write on the black-board either 
an original air in four parts or something from a com- 
poser not well known. This they did, and to the joy 
of Mr. Dorigo we sang the music thus written without 
a flaw. 

We were proud as well as he, but his pride was of short 
duration, for one of his musical guests took his ideas, 
then novel in America, began a similar school, and aided 
by some people made his school the fashion, but the pupils 
of Mr. Perelli never equalled in training or skill those of 
Mr. Dorigo. 

When I was about eighteen I took with my father 
my first long journey. My father then owned near 
Pittsburg a large tract of land, and once a year he went 
there to see his agent. He called the tract his " Western 
lands," not dreaming then that the Pennsylvania Road 
would be built, or that the genius of John Edgar Thom- 
son would give us Pittsburg for our next-door neighbor. 
My father never went alone, and after he had taken the 
elder members of the family my turn came, but my sister 
Ellen had so graphically depicted the horrors of a canal- 
boat I told my father I did not want to go, but that if 
he would take me as far as Cincinnati I would go. To 



this arrangement he consented and we set off. We went 
by rail (I think) to Harrisburg, and there took the 
boat. The rails were uneven, and I reached the end of 
a long railroad journey quite bruised; no one then 
dreamed of the present joy of a journey over the Penn- 
sylvania Railroad. 

We entered the canal-boat and were glad to rest. My 
sister had told me that the toilet arrangements were very 
imperfect on the canal-boat and the water was very dirty. 
She advised me to take a quart bottle of rose-water and 
a bundle of rags with which to perform my ablutions. 
This I did, but when we reached Freeport, our first 
stopping-place, I could not even smile, for dust and rose- 
water had together made a thick paste on my unfortunate 
cheeks. I think we were three days and two nights 
on that boat. The rest of our journey was pleasant. 

During our canal-boat journey we walked long dis- 
tances, and, where the locks were frequent, we often went 
more rapidly than the boat, and were obliged sometimes 
to wait for her to overtake us. We gathered beautiful 
wild flowers in our walks, but the journey was a terrible 
one. One rainy day I saw a little boy fill a glass with 
newspaper balls, and after pouring water upon them, mix 
them with his fingers until they became a sort of paste. 
When the waiters came to set the table for the mid-day 
meal the paste was thrown over the side of the boat, and 
the glass, without being washed, was turned upside down 
and placed on the table. When w^e came to dinner, I saw 
the unfortunate man who had this same glass drinking 
placidly out of it, but I grieve to add that I neglected 
my duty to my neighbor when I failed to tell him the 
usage to which the glass had been previously subjected. 


Thankful was I to reach Freeport, where we met with 
warm friends and were happy and comfortable. 

When we reached Pittsburg the same kind hospitality- 
was extended to us, although there the smoke stifled 
me. After a few days, during which time my father 
had transacted all his business, he took me to the wharf 
to inspect the steamboats, on one of which we were to 
pursue our journey, down the Ohio River to Cincinnati. 
After we had looked at the boats, my father said, " My 
dear, I want you to understand that these are all high- 
pressure boats and the boilers are liable to explode." I 
knew then that my father was anxious to return to our 
own home, not so I. So I told him I had not the slightest 
fear of accident, and then urging upon him the fact that 
he always kept his promises, and assuring him that I 
should remain in Pittsburg if I could not go farther, we 
proceeded on our way, and after three days and two 
nights reached Cincinnati. I thought the city " charm- 
ing." There was little or none of the smoke that de- 
faces it now, though already people had taken to the 
beautiful hills which surround the city proper, which is 
now almost given over to the business part of the com- 

We remained there ten days and every moment was 
delightful. The sun of my father's political career was 
still above the horizon, and wherever we went the people 
did honor to him. We stayed at the Burnet House, 
and as soon as my father was known to be there all the 
" old settlers" came to see him, and we were hospitably 
entertained. We went to a gay wedding in Covington, 
Kentucky. The bride was Miss Dudley, and very lovely 
was she. Indeed, so many and varied were the attentions 


shown us that I think my father feared my head would 
be turned, for after we had been serenaded twice my 
father assured me the serenades were meant for him. 
I did not contradict him, but when we were leaving and 
seven bouquets were brought on board the boat for me, 
I said, " Poor father, you may have the serenades, I 
have the flowers," and we both laughed heartily. The 
boat in which we came up the Ohio had come up the 
Mississippi and lay a long time at the wharf in Cincin- 
nati. Our farewells to our friends were spoken, and 
scarcely had the boat left her moorings when a gentleman 
came to my father, and after introducing himself, said 
that he was taking his wife North to place her in an 
asylum, as her mind had been upset ever since the birth 
of her child. He then added, " Your daughter reminds 
my wife of a dear friend of hers, and she is anxious 
to know her." My father's tender heart was touched; 
he came for me at once. I had then never seen any one 
whose mind was unhinged, and went to the lady partly 
from sympathy and with not a little curiosity. She was 
very handsome, with a profusion of golden-brown hair. 
She greeted me warmly, and we sat together while she 
told me that her sufferings were great and entirely caused 
by her husband, who had taken from her her watch and 
all her jewels and had either pawned or sold them. Many 
were her grievances, and when we separated to prepare 
for dinner I told my father that the poor woman was 
not deranged, but that her husband was a wretch. My 
father endeavored to shake my harsh judgment. I w^as 
not to be convinced by argument, but when the poor 
lady came to the table with her hair braided down 
her back, and the braids stuck full of brooches, while 


her watch hung from a chain around her neck, I knew 
I had been mistaken. She did not wish to be separated 
from me for a moment, and her fascination for me in- 
creased, so that it was a pleasure, not a hardship, to be 
with her. In the evening we sat on the deck together 
and she sang to me, but after a time when her songs broke 
into shrieks every child on the boat awoke and there was 
great uproar. Finally she promised to be quiet if I would 
agree to share her state-room with her. My father ob- 
jected to this, but finding that nothing else would quiet 
the poor sufferer he agreed. I did not sleep much until 
morning, and then lightly, for I awoke when she laid 
her hand upon me and I started. In the course of the 
day she said to me, " You knew you were sleeping with 
a lunatic, else why did you start when I waked you?" 
I found it difficult to make her believe that I had passed 
a comfortable night, and that evening the same scene took 
place. Again I shared her room and she was quiet. In 
the morning I crossed the cabin to go to my own room, 
fell and fainted. I was young and the strain upset me. 
My mother told me afterwards that when my father was 
called to come to me, he found me lying with my head 
in the lap of the poor lady, and she said to him, " See 
what I have done ; I bring suffering even to the only soul 
on the boat who has shown me compassion." My father 
was much moved, but determined to leave the boat at 
Wheeling, which we reached the same evening, not con- 
tinuing to Pittsburg, as we had intended. The parting 
from my friend was hard for her, and for me too, for 
in those few days I had pitied and loved her; but after 
she reached New England her husband wrote to my 
father that she was better, and two years afterwards she 


came herself to see us, and to show us she was perfectly 
restored, but not one incident of our journey together 
had she forgotten during the time of her convalescence. 

From Wheeling we came over the mountains in a 
carriage by what was called the National Road, and well 
might the nation have been proud of it. The mountain 
journey was enchanting, the scenery beautiful, and 
wherever we stopped the people delighted me, so ignorant 
were they even of my narrow outside world. One day 
we stopped at a lonely little house for something to eat. 
While our hostess was preparing our food she asked me 
many questions about myself, and finally said, " Where 
do you live?" When I answered "Philadelphia," she 
said, " How can you live so fur?" My father found his 
Western lands so very far off that he shortly after sold 
them, but he took for a bad debt some land in Illinois, 
which he never visited. 

After he had paid taxes upon this land for several years 
he received an application to sell the tract. He agreed 
and named his price, which was the sum he had paid, 
without the taxes. The purchaser took the land, and 
the deeds were scarcely signed wdien my father found 
there was a city (Peoria) growing up on the same spot. 
He was very sorry then, but was much amused by the 
visit of a man in his office one day several years after. 
The man said, "Are you W. J. Duane?" "Yes," said 
my father. " Did you own the site of the city of 
Peoria?" " Yes," said my father. " Did you sell it for 
six hundred dollars?" Again my father said "Yes." 
The man rose and said, "Good-by; I only thought I'd 
like to look at you," and left. 

My next journey was to Washington to witness the 


inauguration of General Harrison in 1841. My two sis- 
ters were with me, and we were all guests of General 
Welghtman, an old friend of my father. We saw the 
old general take the oath of office, and in the evening 
went to the Inauguration Ball. General Harrison en- 
tered the ball-room after the guests had assembled and 
made a tour of the hall, so that we might all see the 
man who was to direct the Ship of State for the next 
four years. He wore a pair of white silk gloves with 
log cabins embroidered on the backs. The fingers of 
his gloves were twice the length of his own fingers, and 
hung limp and useless as he walked with his hands in 
front of him. Soon after those hands were folded, and 
he slept the sleep of death, while the Ship of State tossed 
on, with, alas ! a not very competent captain. 

I cannot leave the days of my youth without recalling 
some of the street cries which awoke us all betimes in 
the morning. Charcoal was carried from house to house 
in large wagons and sold by the barrel, the vender call- 
ing, " Char — coal — charcoal !" 

I find here an ending of the memories of the first score 
of the years of my life. The next few years were passed 
quietly, for the Angel of Death drooped its wings over 
our household and left us fewer than before. In 1849 
I was married and went to Washington to live. I de- 
lighted there in going to the Capitol and hearing the 
debates. The Supreme Court also had great attractions, 
and I was fortunate in hearing the argument in the Morse 
Telegraph Suit, and was proud of our Philadelphia law- 
yers, St. George T. Campbell and George Harding. In 
the Senate sat Daniel Webster and Henry Clay. I heard 
them speak more than once and was enchanted, as all 


were, women as well as men, although these orators had 
no attractions in looks. I numbered then among my 
friends many of our Southern people, and loved them 
much, and in a dark hour of my life found kind and 
steadfast friends in Jefferson Davis and his wife. 

The Washington of 1850 would not be recognized in 
1896. There was no money there then. Our pleasures 
were simple, our dress plain, and the entertainments 
equally so, and yet I think I have never met in any city 
people who were more intelligent, cultivated, aad con- 
genial. There was less of envy there then than there 
seems to be now. No one wanted a carriage or fine 
clothes because a privileged few had these luxuries, and 
those who had carriages (God bless them!) were gener- 
ous enough to give a lift often to those who (as Mrs. 
Justice Wayne once said to me) "were compelled to go 
as pietons." The years I spent there were very happy. 

One incident I must record. We lived in a two-story 
frame house on H Street, next door to my cousin, Major 
William H. Emory. My husband and I had dined on 
Thanksgiving Day at Silver Spring with Mr. and Mrs. 
Francis P. Blair. We came home quite late in the even- 
ing, and on closing the curtains in our room I said, " I 
never saw the moonlight so beautiful, there is a red light 
about it I never saw before." Scarcely were the words 
uttered when we were startled by a knocking at our door 
by the friendly hand of Lieutenant Murray, U.S.N. He 
told us the house next door was burning and ours must 
inevitably go. We began at once in wrappers and slip- 
pers to make our preparations for flight. The whole 
neighborhood was aroused and ready to help, and before 
many minutes our possessions were safely deposited on 


the other side of the street and the house ablaze. One 
friend carried our pillows out in his arms, and the same 
thoughtful soul threw the bandbox containing my best 
bonnet out of the window. I witnessed the performance 
from my seat on the opposite curbstone. When every- 
thing was safely near me I proceeded to take my hair 
out of curl-papers and think of the future. My cousin, 
Mrs. Emory, fearing her house would be the next to 
go, put on a new mantle and bonnet which had just come 
from New York, and arming herself with her policy 
of insurance and taking one of her little twin boys by 
each hand, sought refuge for herself and treasures with 
a friend. 

This experience made all of our little neighborhood 
feel tenderly towards those who were " burning out." 
We ourselves kept an axe behind our front door and 
buckets ready for use at any moment; for a really com- 
petent and rapid fire department was not known in those 
days in the capital of our country. So we turned volun- 
teer firemen, and went, whenever we heard that dismal 
cry " Fire!" to render all the assistance that we could. 

One night we went to the burning of a board-yard, 
and as friends were living next door arid in some danger, 
we went in and found a lady about leaving the house, 
saying, " I will save something," carrying in her arms 
a rag doll belonging to her grandchild. We spent the 
rest of that night with Lardner Gibbon and his brother 
"Jack" (afterwards General Gibbon) sitting on a fence, 
and towards morning went home to restore our wasted 
forces with biscuit, cheese, and ale. 

Before our marriage my husband, then Lieutenant Gil- 
lespie, United States Marines, was sent by the govern- 


ment across Mexico to California as bearer of despatches 
to Commodore Stockton, then on the Pacific coast, and 
also to John C. Fremont. The war with Mexico was then 
imminent and it was necessary to have despatches reach 
California as soon as possible. Mr. Gillespie was chosen 
to carry them because he was an excellent Spanish scholar. 

Disguised as a Spanish merchant, he began his perilous 
journey through Mexico accompanied by a servant. At 
one point in his journey he thought his nationality was 
suspected, and taking from his papers the only despatch 
which was important, he chewed and swallowed it. He 
reached California safely, and riding one hundred and 
twenty miles in one day overtook Mr. Fremont; the 
volunteer force was raised, the conquest of California 
accomplished, and one of our richest and most important 
States thus added to our glorious company of stars. 

Washington when it was my home was not the Wash- 
ington of the present day. Simplicity was the rule in 
all things; my neighbors and constant companions were 
my cousin, Mrs. Emory (the wife of General W. H. 
Emory), Mrs. Wise (the wife of Lieutenant Henry A. 
Wise, United States Navy, and the daughter of Edward 
Everett), and Mrs. Campbell (the wife of Archibald 
Campbell, one of the commissioners of the northwestern 
boundary. We lived in small houses in H Street, between 
Seventeenth and Eighteenth, now a fashionable part of 
Washington. Often in the evening we would gather 
together and begin a pie-mie supper, material being fur- 
nished from each house. One night we had everything 
requisite but bread. No one had bread or biscuit, and 
the shops being shut we obliged our dear neighbor Camp- 
bell to borrow a loaf from her milkwoman, who lived 


in a tiny frame house next door to her. The borrowed 
bread was good and added to the charm of the evening, 
but I think neighbor Campbell never allowed herself to 
be left without the staff of life after that, having a horror 
of borrowing and a dread of her loved but marauding 

We had neighbors whom we knew only by sight. One, 
a clerk in one of the Departments, lived just opposite 
to us. He was brought home from his office one morn- 
ing dead. Mrs. Wise came to tell me of the fact, and 
also to propose that we should go together and offer to 
help the poor widow. This we did, but she declined 
all assistance except for her toilet for the funeral. Fi- 
nally she wrote to me telling me she should leave for 
her own home immediately and would get her mourning 
there, and asked me, as I was in close mourning at the 
time, to lend her my dress, mantle, bonnet, and veil. I 
confess I did not love my neighbor as myself, for I winced 
at the thought of my best clothes being worn by a 
stranger. I told my dilemma to the neighbors; they 
agreed to help me. Mrs. Campbell produced an old dusty 
bonnet, to which I added a new pair of strings after re- 
moving the dust through the agency of bay rum. Mrs. 
Wise added a cap made of white tarletan muslin left from 
her last ball dress. I damped an old crepe veil, folded 
it and dried it between my mattresses, and ironed out my 
oldest dress. 

Mrs. Emory lent me an old shawl, and so arrayed the 
widow attended the funeral and left; but we were all 
contented, because we thought old clothes were suitable 
to be worn by a widow whose chief care was instantly 
her toilet. 



In 1853 my husband was ordered to Pensacola, and 
there I found a new and strange hfe. I had never seen 
logs of wood sunken into sand to create the sidewalks 
of a street, while as we walked the fleas hopped and 
gambolled about our steps, and frequently extended their 
gambols to our suffering bodies; I had never then met 
a turtle (or gopher) walking in the street, or had seen 
its promenade arrested by an economical housekeeper, 
who swiftly carried it into her house and popped it into 
a pot of boiling water, preparatory to making turtle 
soup. The gopher doubtless would have preferred any 
bath to a boiling one. I had never been in the South 
before; had never seen cape jasmine and cape myrtle 
as tall as the house I lived in in full bloom in the month 
of January. 

We lived in a house with seven officers. I was the 
only lady there, and most courteously was I treated. A 
horse was always at my disposal, and as I was fond of 
riding and had my own saddle, I took delight in run- 
ning races with the officers, leaping fences, and cantering 
through the pine-woods. There were ladies in the navy- 
yard whom I saw often, and one night I went with 
Mrs. G., who was passing a few days with us, to call 
on the family of the commodore. When we reached the 
piazza which ran around the house, we saw in the hall 
a person whom we did not desire to meet, and began 
in a whisper to consult as to whether we should not leave 


without entering the house, when we were both startled 
by hearing some one utter the word " Whisper" in a 
whisper. We looked about, but in the darkness could 
see no one; we were almost paralyzed with the thought 
that some member of the commodore's family had heard 
our not too complimentary remarks and remained silent, 
when again the word " Whisper" was repeated, and we 
found it came from a parrot whose cage hung above our 
heads. What useful creatures parrots would be if all 
our imprudent remarks could be so easily checked ! 

I had friends in the neighborhood. Colonel and Mrs. 
Strong, who lived on a plantation not many miles out of 
town. They frequently sent for us to pass a few days 
with them, and I always went most gladly, for it was 
my first experience of slave life, and I thank God my 
last, though I never witnessed any of the horrors which 
have been described by many. I saw lazy colored men 
and women and industrious colored men and women, and 
I saw a hard-worked master and mistress whom I thought 
slaves, but I could not bear to think of human beings 
as " property," and wished then, as I have often since 
wished, that it had been possible for the government 
gradually to buy the slaves and set them free. One day 
Mrs. Strong sent the carriage for me. The roads were 
at least half a foot deep in sand. Two mules were to 
draw me and a clever boy whom I knew well, named 
" Steve," to the plantation. I say " draw me" because 
driving was an impossibility in those roads. My hus- 
band was to follow on horseback. We had not gone far 
when Steve turning to me said, " Missus, would ye like 
t' year me sing?" I said I should be delighted, so fasten- 
ing the useless reins to the side of the carriage, turn- 


ing his back entirely to the mules and facing me, he 
began, — 

" I saw a flea hew a tree, boo, boo, 
I saw a flea hew a tree, boo for John, 
I saw a flea hew a tree ten miles in the sea, 
Let us all drink stone blind, boo for John. 

" I saw a pig run a mile, boo, boo, 
I saw a pig run a mile, boo for John, 
I saw a pig run a mile with a little fat hen. 
Let us all, etc. 

" I saw a hen bil' a pen, boo, boo, 
I saw a hen bil' a pen, boo for John, 
I saw a hen bil' a pen with a hatchet in her hand, 
Let us all, etc." 

There were at least twenty verses to this ditty. I only 
learned the three from making Steve sing it again the 
next day, but his honest eyes, as he looked into mine 
while he sang, and his beautiful teeth are present with 
me still. Steve must be almost an old man, and I sup- 
pose has forgotten me, but I am sure he remembers " boo 
for John" and the queer tune tD which he sang it, for I 
have forgotten neither. 

Thus passed the winter months, and in the early spring 
we were invited to move our quarters to " Barrancas," 
where are (or were) the quarters for the army officers 
at Pensacola. Here we had large rooms and plenty of 
sea air. The mosquitoes were, it is true, troublesome 
at times, but the " orderlies" put piles of manure (which 
they burned at nightfall) around the house. This kept 
our troublesome and bloodthirsty neighbors at a dis- 
tance. Most of the officers who were there then have 
passed away. One whom I liked especially, a young 


lieutenant, Robert Ogden Tyler, lost his life through the 
Civil War. He was a noble fellow. I saw him at Bar- 
rancas constantly, and never heard him utter one word 
that his mother might not have listened to with pleasure. 
He was, besides, even thus early in his career, a con- 
scientious officer. During the war he came to Philadel- 
phia sorely wounded. I saw him there several times, 
but I could scarcely recognize in the suffering man the 
gay, delightful youth of Barrancas da3^s, and for the 
young life thus sacrificed I grieved. 

We left Pensacola in the summer of 1854, and I re- 
turned late in the year to my father's house with my 
infant daughter. The next few years were fully taken 
up with her training. 

When my child was quite an infant we spent a summer 
in Orange County, New York. A lady in the house 
with us, Mrs. N., had been suffering from chills and 
fever for eight years. She looked very ill and was wasted 
to a shadow, when my faithful nurse and friend, Eliza 
Young, told me she knew that a glass of brandy and 
water made very hot, with a whole nutmeg grated over 
it, taken when a chill was coming on, was a sure cure 
for chills. I had no diploma for the practice of medi- 
cine, but I told the invalid what Eliza had said, and she 
implored me to give it to her. The next morning at 
daybreak her sister awoke me to tell me a chill was 
coming on. I mixed the dose and carried it to the suf- 
ferer. About an hour after the sister came running to 
me to tell me that the patient was acting in a very strange 
manner. I flew to her very much frightened, and found 
her very tipsy. I could not think that this condition 
was brought about by one tablespoonful of brandy, and 


after waiting for two hours and finding no change in the 
symptoms of my patient, I sent for the country doctor. 
By the time he arrived the patient was quiet and com- 
posed, and I say for the benefit of those who read that 
she had no chill after that for ten years, the last time I 
heard from her. Again, one summer in New Hampshire, 
I administered the same remedy to a friend of my 
nephews, with a similar result. So delighted were the 
boys that they wanted me to prepare a " patent medicine" 
for the cure of chills. They called it " Chillania," and 
wrote this name in chalk all over the rocks in the neigh- 
borhood. Thus my practice and my pharmacy ended, 
but my faith in both still remained and was brought to 
life again in 1881. 

In the years that followed I went several times to 
Washington to visit my relatives, Mrs. Robert J. Walker, 
Mrs. W. H. Emory, and my friend, Mrs. Jefferson 
Davis. In 1858 I was one of the guests at the fancy 
ball given by Senator and Mrs. Gwin, of California. 
Never, I am sure, in this country was there a greater 
gathering of clever women and men. They came from 
all parts of our country when we had but thirty-six 
States, but I doubt if even now with the addition of all 
our annexes anything more perfect could be produced 
than the " Gwin fancy ball." The President, Mr. Bu- 
chanan, was there, of course not in costume. Lord 
Napier was at that time the British minister accredited 
to our country. He and Lady Napier appeared as Mr. 
and Mrs. George Hammond, Mr. Hammond having been 
the first minister sent to our government after the Revo- 
lution. They were dressed in the costume of the eigh- 
teenth century, he in smallclothes and lace ruffles at the 


wrist and on the shirt front, she in a satin dress with 
short waist and sleeves. 

Mrs. Jefferson Davis appeared as Madame de Stael, 
and intimately as I knew her, I did not recognize her 
until I heard her laugh. Mrs. Clay, the wife of the 
Senator from Alabama, came in the person of Mrs. Par- 
tington. She was surrounded all the evening by a crowd 
that was never tired of listening to her ready wit. Mrs. 
Malaprop would have been proud of her follower, 
Aurora was there, not she who, we are told, " paints the 
eastern skies," but she came in the lovely person of Mrs. 
Stephen A. Douglas. 

Mrs. Stoeckel, the wife of Baron Stoeckel, then minis- 
ter from Russia, personated one of the queens of Belgium. 
She was covered with garnets. Mrs. Daniel Sickles 
came as Red Riding-Hood, and Barton Key was a jockey 
carrying a whip made of a lady's hair. Here my record 
of those in costume fails, except that my cousin, Mrs. 
William H. Emory, and I appeared as Quakeresses. A 
clever poet thus wrote of Mrs. Partington and Mrs. 
Emory : 

" Mark how the grace that gilds an honored name 
Gives a strange zest to that loquacious uame, 
Whose ready tongue and easy blundering wit 
Provoke fresh uproar at each happy hit. 
Note how her humor into strange grimace 
Tempts the smooth meekness of yon Quaker's face ; 
You'd scarcely guess beneath that cap so prim, 
Which decks, not hides, the handsome head within, 
There lurks a wit as keen for fools to feel 
As is her name to sharpen blunted steel." 

The Quakeresses, apparently to his great amusement, 
both addressed Mr. Buchanan as " Jeemes." Once when 



they were near him and the crowd was great he said, 
"Shall I make room for you to pass?" one of them 
answered, " Jeemes, thou art in a tighter place than we 
are!" But, alas! these friendly words fell unheeded 
upon the ear of '' Jeemes;" the clouds gathered, the plot 
thickened, and he was overthrown, carrying with him 
into his retirement the sound of women's sobs and the 
groans of dying men. 

After the ball was over some very clever lines were 
written describing the scene. I copy a few of these lines 
to show that life in the year 1858 in Washington was 
very like the life there in 1898. 

" To that gay capital where congregate 
The worst and wisest of this mighty State ; 
Where patriot politicians yearly wend 
The nation's fortunes and their own to mend ; 
. Where snobbish scribblers eke the scanty dole 
By telegraphing lies from pole to pole ; 
Where gamblers bland with statesmen freely mix, 
And seem sometimes to make exchange of tricks ; 
Where impudence and pertness take the floor 
While modest merit waits without the door ; 
Thither, O muse of Fashion, wing thy flight 
And shed the radiance of thy varied light ; 
Leave thy dear limbo in the changing moon 
And on the newly patented balloon. 
The swift aerial crinoline, repair 
To regulate the new vagaries there; 
And lo, amid the night of faction's din 
A bright idea lights the mind of Gwin, 
And see, responsive to her welcome call 
All parties vie to grace her fancy ball." 



The doctrine of secession was first broached in Ken- 
tucky in 1793. It spread into Pennsylvania later, and 
from 1803 to 1 81 2 the pernicious idea found favor in 
some of the New England States. Under the name of 
Nullification it lifted its head in South Carolina in 1833. 
Andrew Jackson, then President of the United States, 
was a determined man, and soon placed his heel upon 
this serpent ; but, alas ! a snake is difficult to kill, and 
when Congress opened after the election of Abraham 
Lincoln secession was ripe in the Southern States, and 
bore the bitter fruit of which all who then lived in our 
country tasted in greater or less degree. 

South Carolina took the initiative; her Senators and 
members bidding farewell soon after the assembling of 
Congress in i860. The President took no step to pre- 
vent the departure of South Carolina, and other States 
followed her example. I went to Washington just after 
Christmas, and found most men and women composed 
and not anticipating evil. The last night in the year 
i860 Mrs. Emory, Mrs. Jefferson Davis, and I saw the 
old year out and the new year in together. After we had 
well-nigh exhausted the topics of the times, we spoke 
of the condition of our souls after death, and they both 
wished that some one who had gone would come to tell 
us what was before us ; knowing full well that we should 
all run screaming away if such a visitor should appear, 


I said but little, and in a few minutes they said to me, 
" Lizzie, promise, if it be possible, that you will return 
to tell us all that you can." I was amazed that neither 
thought of death for herself, but being determined not 
to be so quietly disposed of, I said, " Thank you, dears, 
I was just about to extend the same invitation to both 
of you," and so we laughed out the last hours of the last 
year of our lives which we spent together. We are not 
all living still, but are all loving each other. 

I went to the Senate often during the session of Con- 
gress, went only to weep. The Southern Senators said 
" Good-by," often with much emotion. The sight of 
man after man leaving forever the most august body 
of men, to my mind, ever gathered together, was agony 
to me, and yet not one word was ever spoken in that 
" august body" to deter one of them in his course. If 
such scenes could take place now I should think the actors 

The Senators who remained sat still after these spoken 
farewells or proposed to take up " unfinished business." 
They did not understand that it would be long before 
the business of secession would be finished, and that 
misery and sorrow must flood the whole land before a 
gleam of hope could come to any of us. 

I went to see Mrs. Davis the day after the farewell 
speech of Mr. Davis, and found him at home alone. I 
told him how distressed I had been at listening to his 
last words and of the dread I had of what would happen 
to the country in the future. He laughed at my fears 
and did his best to reassure me as to the condition of 
affairs. He believed that the North would never fight 
the South, and added, " You see how quietly they have 


let us all go." I assured him the North would rather 
fight the South than have the Union broken. 

As to the silence on the leave-taking of the Senators, 
I condemned it, and longed from the gallery to shriek 
" Treason !" I had inherited from my parents firm belief 
in the stability of our government, and I thought the 
heavens and the earth must pass away before the Consti- 
tution founded by our fathers could totter. Again Mr. 
Davis endeavored to cheer me by telling me the two gov- 
ernments would be entirely friendly with each other, and 
when I drew a picture of England pouncing on the weak 
country that each division would be and trying to absorb 
it, he assured me that the two " divisions" would form 
an alliance offensive and defensive against all foreign 
governments, but my fears were not dispelled, and I left 
him saying, " My dear Mr. Davis, I would far rather 
leave with a rope around my neck, and sitting on my 
coffin would go to the gallows cheerfully, if I thought 
I could save my country from what is before her." But 
while he laughed at my fears, I knew he suffered, and, 
fool that I was, I hoped. But hope soon died, and with 
it died as blind and supine an administration as ever 
held sway over our broad land. 

Nobody seemed to remember then that the North had 
planted slavery in the South for its own profit, and only 
when the South alone seemed to reap that profit did 
the North cry out, " Fie upon you ! get rid of the blot 
of slavery or we will make you." If Mr. Buchanan 
and the Congress of the United States had had one-half 
of the manly courage of the President who followed them, 
or of the President now in office, 1896, the war might 
have been averted and slavery gradually abolished; not 


only saving the best blood in our country but more than 
enough in money to pay for a gradual abolition of slavery, 
and they then would have placed the negro on a much 
higher footing than he had when he was turned adrift 
without means of support and with only a handful of 
friends besides the master or mistress whom he loved. 
To the credit of the freedman, he has often clung to 
those who once held him in bondage, but who were then 
in adversity, with a fidelity which we white folks might 
imitate with advantage. 

The next page we turned in this sad history found 
us anxious as to whom among our friends in the army 
and navy would hold their allegiance to the United States 
government and who would go, believing that their duty 
and their service belonged to the States in which they 
were born. This attitude surprised me, for slender as 
each officer in either branch of the service may have felt 
the tie which held him to the general government, and 
strongly as he may have thought himself bound to the 
welfare of his State, every man should have remembered 
that he owed his education as an officer to the United 
States government, and that in the service of that gov- 
ernment he must use his powers. It was sickening to 
think that men who had stood side by side in the ranks 
at West Point, whose sorrows and joys had been the 
same, and whose thoughts ran in the same channel during 
the four years when they were preparing themselves to 
battle wath the world and against some common enemy, 
should then be looking their last upon each other, unless 
perhaps they should meet in battle, each one sworn to 
kill the other. 

I never can forget the sadness in the faces of two of 


those officers, Robert Lee and Joseph Johnston, but in 
spite of their sadness they went South, and both not only 
lived to see the end of the war, but each carried to his 
grave the respect of mankind, North and South. 

At Fort Sumter the first aggressive warlike step was 
taken by the South, and the flag was fired upon by chil- 
dren who forgot their duty to their mother. This act 
roused the whole North. There was no thought then 
of war for the extinction of slavery, except that that 
might come as a side issue, but the men of the North 
came forth to fight for their flag and their country. I 
say this from my own knowledge. 

During three years after the breaking out of the war 
my days were spent in a military hospital, and although 
my experience was tiny compared with that of other 
women, I never saw one enlisted man who told me he 
had entered the service to get rid of slavery. 

I can only give my own memory of war-time, which 
may seem to many as insignificant as my views as to the 
possibility of its having been averted may seem absurd, 
and the offspring of the brain of a woman in her dotage, 
but I shall continue in spite of these anticipated adverse 

Before the breaking out of the war, and when we of 
the border States hoped, if blows were struck, they would 
be confined to the border States, Dr. John Neill, of Phila- 
delphia, a surgeon of high standing, whose memory is 
held sacred in the hearts of those who worked under him 
in those hospital days, secured a large building then va- 
cant in Christian Street, and, aided by private subscrip- 
tion, put it in readiness for a military hospital. Dr. Neill 
then appointed Mrs. William C. Patterson and myself 


the matrons of the hospital. My mother entered heart 
and soul into these preparations, cut out and made the 
first underclothing for the soldiers, as her mother had 
done in the days of the Revolution. 

May the Angel of Peace protect our land forever, and 
may the descendants of these two good women never be 
called to this " higher education," through which they 
both passed not only without flinching, but cheerfully 
and with " high honors," 

The matrons were to take charge of the hospital and 
see that nothing was lacking for the comfort of the pa- 
tients. My mother offered to take care of my little 
daughter if I would agree to Dr. Neill's proposal, and 
having a nurse, Eliza Young, who stood alone in ex- 
cellence then and always, I said " Yes" to Dr. Neill, and 
went to Christian Street to share the labors of one who 
should never be forgotten in the city of Philadelphia. 
I am sure Mrs. William C. Patterson's name is often 
spoken even now by the men whom she tenderly cared for 
and who were many in number, for not very long after 
the beginning of the war the government established a 
military hospital at the southeast corner of Broad and 
Cherry Streets. Dr. Neill, with his brilliant record as a 
surgeon and as an executive officer, was called to take 
charge of it. Pie accepted the call, which he considered 
an " order," and requested Mrs. Patterson and myself to 
go with him. This we did. I never shall forget the 
appearance of the first regiments that passed through our 
city on their way to the seat of war. The first that I saw 
came from New Jersey, the next from New York, the 
next from Massachusetts. I do not remember what regi- 
ments they were, for I felt ill when I saw them. They 


looked well, and I thought marched well, but who could 
think they would return as they left, and though then 
no one dreamed of a long w^ar, all knew there must be 
much bloodshed, and all knew that our bravest and best 
must fall in the conflict. No man or woman shrank 
from duty then, but if one-half the terrible pictures we 
were called to look upon afterwards had been held at that 
time before our eyes, I think many would have entreated 
their God to " let the cup pass from them," but we were, 
fortunately for ourselves and the country, not permitted 
to look into the future. Each woman seemed to have 
for her motto, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do 
it with thy might," and all was done that could be done 
to alleviate suffering and to give comfort to those who 
were doing battle for the preservation of our govern- 

Coffee-houses were established in Philadelphia for the 
refreshment of the troops from the North and East as 
they passed South. These houses were attended to and 
watched over by our women night and day; they were 
never closed, and the heads of these departments of com- 
fort left their posts only to take needful rest. No man 
equipped for battle left Philadelphia without being fed 
and refreshed. No one asked whence he came; it was 
enough that he was ready and willing to lay down his life 
for the preservation of the Union. After a time some of 
these men returned to us, and again they were cared for, 
but then, alas ! they came to our hospitals. 

It will be almost useless to describe our Philadelphia 
military hospital ; few of the buildings to which our sick 
and wounded found their way were suitable for the pur- 
poses for which dire necessity compelled their being used, 


and " Broad and Cherry" had been a storage-house for 
grain, I think. The ceiHngs were low and the stories 
were not divided by walls, but the building was capable 
of accommodating four or five hundred men ; there was 
a railroad track which ran under the hospital, and the 
wounded were brought directly from the trains into their 
beds. Once when we were overcrowded we were obliged 
to use temporarily a small house in the neighborhood, 
and sometimes the sick and wounded soldier found his 
first shelter in a church, for though every nerve was 
strained by each and all to sustain and comfort our blessed 
soldiers, when the battle on the borders raged hottest, 
and wounded men came in greater numbers, our churches 
had to be opened to receive them, and surely the churches 
so opened amply fulfilled their divine purpose, for they 
gave comfort and help to those who sorely needed it. 

I could not, if I would, follow in their order the battles 
which took place near us. I can only tell of the work 
done in the comparatively narrow sphere in which I 
was called to labor. Dr. Neill proposed our having addi- 
tional helpers for our work, and invited Mrs. Riter to 
serve as a third matron, and she fulfilled her duties well. 
At first I feared a conflict with three heads, but all went 
well. Each one of us had her duties in different parts 
of the hospital, and the rooms where dainties and supplies 
were kept, which were gifts and not the property of 
the government, were open at all times to all of the 

The stores of all kinds were a marvel at first. No man 
parched with fever ever asked twice for a cooling drink 
of any particular kind, or for any delicacy that would 
be good for him. Everything was within our reach. 


Farmers who brought their suppHes into the city to sell 
stopped first at '' Broad and Cherry" that we might have 
as gifts the best and freshest the market afforded, the 
" middleman" being then unknown. Cream, butter, milk, 
fresh fruit, tender chickens, and fresh vegetables came 
every day, and all who were able to taste of these good 
things had them in abundance. Nor were stores of other 
kinds wanting. Shirts, drawers, dressing-gowns, pocket- 
handkerchiefs, stockings, and cravats came in great num- 
bers, and one kind soul who had a large hat store not 
only sent many modern hats, but emptied his shelves of 
hats of thirty years before the war began. The modern 
hats were easily disposed of to the patients when they 
took their first drive during their convalescence. Of the 
old-time hats I shall speak later. 

The prettiest sight during those hospital days was the 
advent of the children from the public schools. They 
came in charge of their teachers on Saturdays. The 
little souls, boys and girls, saved their pennies, and each 
brought something for the soldiers. They were often 
loaded down, and it was a keen pleasure to see their 
eager faces and to help them open and display their sup- 
plies. Everything that could be thought of was there, 
oranges, lemons, peanuts, candy, cakes, and comforters 
knitted by the little girls. I often felt that then, if ever, 
our city deserved to be called " The City of Brotherly 
Love." Even after the establishment of the Sanitary 
Commission, which spread its benevolent hands and dis- 
tributed its bounty far and near, these little ministering 
children came to us from several of our schools, and with 
some doubtless this pleasant recollection of our war-time 
is all that remains in their memories. God be praised 


that there are some among us by whom its horrors can 
be forgotten. 

So much has been written of hospital work, and espe- 
pecially of the severe hospital work which was done glose 
to the battle-fields, that it seems almost presumptuous 
to dwell upon the work done at " Broad and Cherry," 
where we had four stout walls, a good roof, spacious 
kitchen and dining-room, with every comfort for our 
patients; for when supplies from the government fell 
short, and we had to wait the unrolling of red tape before 
we could replenish, the people came to fill our store- 
rooms with all things, showing that our people may 
always be relied upon, no matter what the emergency 
may be. 

Chiefest among the blessings which fell to the lot of 
the men at " Broad and Cherry" was the head matron, 
Mrs. William C. Patterson. The wife of a prominent 
citizen of Philadelphia, the head of a large household, 
the mother of a large family of children, this excellent 
woman went into the wards of that hospital as if the 
poor sufferer in each bed were her own son. Nay, more, 
she thought of the wives and mothers of the sufferers, 
and early in each summer while the war lasted she sent 
her own family into the country, and fitted up every room 
in her own house for the reception of those dear to the 
soldiers who, lying in the hospital ill and suffering, 
seemed likely to die. Several thus circumstanced were 
helped forward to convalescence by the sight of the faces 
they held most dear. I went one morning into the hos- 
pital to find the wives of four of our badly wounded 
soldiers sitting beside the beds of their husbands. They 
had been sent for by Mrs. Patterson, their expenses paid 


from their homes, and with their babies on their knees 
were pouring out " home news" into the wilHng ears 
of those who had left all that their country might live. 
All these women and many more found a home and a 
hearty welcome in Mrs. Patterson's house. God bless 
her memory and keep it green in the hearts of those 
whom she cheered and comforted. 

A pitiful story here comes back to me. I had been 
watching for several days a soldier from Wisconsin, no 
longer young, who was suffering from fever. Sometimes 
he opened his eyes when I gave him a cooling drink or 
changed his pillows, but apparently he did not notice me. 
At last after many days he said feebly, " Waal, aunty." 
Feeling grateful even for this homely recognition, I told 
him he was better. In a day or two he said, " Aunty, 
I have seen you every day but I could not speak." I 
asked him what I could do for him, what he wanted. He 
told me he only wanted his " old woman," but he was 
sure she could not come to him. Everything was done 
for the poor fellow, even then hovering between life and 
death, and when he had recovered sufficiently he gave me 
his history. He was a farmer, his children " well up" 
in the world and doing for themselves. ■ He showed me 
his wife's letters, models of womanly truth and affection. 
In one she told him she had " raised a lot of turkeys," 
and had " thirty pounds of butter packed away," adding, 
" because I feel sure you will be at home by Christmas, 
and then we will enjoy together the things that I now can 
do so well without." Then came an anxious letter from 
her; she had heard of his illness, but he laughed at her 
fears and wrote to her himself to reassure her. A day 
or two after I found him lying on his bed, his face hidden 


in the pillow. I asked him if he felt ill, but he said, 
bursting into tears, " Oh, no; but my old woman." As 
soon as he could command his feelings I learned that his 
wife had taken all her little store of money (forty dol- 
lars) and had come to Philadelphia to find him. She 
failed in her search, and alone and dispirited left for her 
home and wrote to her husband, who then knew that she 
had been within a few feet of him. His distress was 
painful to witness. He forgot the money she had spent 
in coming to Philadelphia. She in her letter regretted 
that she had it not, saying, " If I could only send it to 
you you could buy comforts with it." This to some may 
seem an unnatural story, but those who in the early part 
of the war sought for their friends in military hospitals 
will remember what a hopeless task it was. The guard 
at the door, clothed with a little brief authority, often 
heard the inquiry for a particular soldier, and sometimes 
answered rudely that no such person was in that hospital ; 
sometimes the register was indifferently searched with 
the same result, but after the establishment of the Sani- 
tary Commission a perfect register was kept in that office, 
and no one failed to find those who were sought. The 
questions asked of those in charge at the hospitals were 
often very perplexing, and sometimes so foolish that the 
apothecary in the building put up this 


" Anything and everything in this shop to lend. Our 
friends and the public in general and everybody else are 
requested to call often and stay as long as possible. . We 
will endeavor to keep seats reserved for our best patrons. 
Should anything else be wished for, inquire of the drug- 


gist when he is very busy, as questions can be answered 
at no other time." 

After this the druggist had some peace, and I often 
wonder whether peace on the same basis might not now 
be secured to the conductors on the railway cars, and 
also for those having the charge of the windows in 
post-offices, from whom extreme civility is expected, and 
to whom questions are often put that would startle an 
ordinary mortal. 

As I write of my hospital experiences many little cir- 
cumstances, connected with the men I saw there, come 
to my memory; some of these I must record. I see be- 
fore me now the face of a man from New Hampshire; 
he was tall, strong, and determined-looking; his leg had 
been badly broken by a shell, and when I first saw him 
it was in a fracture-box. I told him I was sorry for 
him, but his answer was, " I am glad Mary does not see 
me in this way; I am glad she is not here." After 
hearing him many times congratulate himself that 
" Mary" was spared the pain of seeing him suffer, I 
found beside him one morning a pale woman with a fat 
baby on her knee. Her husband introduced her to me 
as " My Mary," and added, " I am so glad she came, for 
I never saw baby before, she is so lovely." The wife 
looked at the fracture-box, which he forgot, with as 
much composure as if it were part and parcel of her 
liege lord. After a few days she said she must go home. 
After much reluctance she confessed she had not the 
means to stay longer. She was not permitted to leave, 
but was taken to the house of Mrs. William C. Patterson, 
and she and her baby were cared for until the husband 


and father was able to have the unsightly box removed, 
then she went home to prepare to receive him when he 
should come for his promised furlough. I cannot forget 
" Robert Anderson;" not the great general whose name 
and deeds are still held in grateful memory in the hearts 
of some of our people, but a poor young lad who was 
brought in sorely wounded and who lingered for several 
weeks, though we all knew that death alone would come 
to his release. He had a cheerful smile and word for all 
who came near him, and for a long time wanted nothing. 
At last he confessed that his nights were long and weary, 
and that one of the men, who had left the hospital, had 
lent him while he was there a watch, and he had been 
comforted with its ticking. As was my habit when I 
went home at night to tell of my day's experiences, I told 
my father and mother of Robert's weariness, and the 
next morning had the pleasure to carry from my father 
the gift of a silver watch for him. Never shall I forget 
his delight or the grateful messages he sent daily to my 
father. At last the end drew near. He called me one 
day and said, " I am not afraid to die. I go to my 
Father in heaven, but I would like to leave the watch to 
the orderly, who has been most kind to me." This was 
his last request, and perhaps the " orderly" has the watch 
still. At least he must remember the good lad who left 
it to him. 

I could see almost without flinching death come to 
those whom I then considered " well up in years," but a 
young life laid down upon the altar of his country ap- 
palled me. 

Our wounded men generally came in at night, and one 
hot summer morning I found in one of the wards of 


which I had the special oversight a boy of eighteen, pale 
from the loss of blood, his right arm shattered above 
the elbow. After the surgeons made their morning 
rounds, Dr. Neill came, as he always did, to give direc- 
tions as to any special delicacy or care the men might 
need. He said, " That poor pale boy in the corner must 
die." I asked the reason, and he said, " If he were at 
home and with his mother he might live, but his right 
arm must come off at his shoulder, and he will need 
care which he cannot have here in this frightful weather." 
I entreated to be allowed to try and save him, and after 
shaking his head doubtfully as to my powers, for I was 
never a brave nurse. Dr. Neill agreed to have the boy 
put in a screened corner of the ward and had special 
directions written out for my use. While his arm was 
being amputated I went home with my sad tale and with 
a list of things I needed. In an hour I vv'as back again. 
Soon after my dear mother came, with a new nursery 
refrigerator and everything else needful for the comfort 
of the patient. For days no one thought he could live. 
No woman was allowed to stay in the hospital all night. 
I stayed as late as possible, leaving all things necessary to 
the comfort of the patient in the care of a faithful " or- 
derly." Beef-tea and milk-punch, made by my mother, 
came daily, and at last color returned to the poor lad's 
lips, and the doctor told me he hoped he would live. 
He was a Michigan boy. We had many letters from 
his family showing their great anxiety about his con- 
dition, and it was a glad day for us all when we could 
tell them he would recover. When he was able he left 
for home, but even during his convalescence he learned 
to write with his left hand, and his letters came to us 



constantly telling us of his gratitude to us all for the 
care he had received. I followed him in his career for 
some years. He became a journalist, studied law, then 
became interested in mission work, and finally came to 
Brooklyn and had charge of one of the chapels con- 
nected with Plymouth Church as its minister. I saw 
him then once, but afterwards lost sight of him through 
my own fault in neglecting to answer his letters. My 
son-in-law. Dr. Edward P. Davis, spoke to me some 
five years ago of the railroad chapel in Chicago which 
was established through the generosity of Mr. Philip 
Armour for the benefit of the railroad hands in that 
city. After he had told me of the great good that was 
being done there and of the confidence reposed in the 
pastor of the chapel by the wealthy citizens of Chi- 
cago, he added, " He lost his right arm in the war." 
I asked, eagerly, "What is his name?" and the answer 
came as I had hoped, " Charles M. Morton." Two years 
ago I saw him in Chicago. When I went into his office 
he was ministering to the temporal wants of some of the 
railroad hands who had come to him for relief of various 
kinds. When I heard him speak tenderly to these men, 
and when he told me all that was being done to help them 
and their families in their path through life, I blessed 
God that even in the smallest degree I had been given 
the opportunity to keep on earth this once soldier lad, 
now bravely enlisted in fulfilling the law of God in the 
care of his fellow-men. While he was studying law I 
heard often from him, and also received a letter from 
Mr. S. C. Coppinburg, the lawyer in whose office he 
was preparing himself for the bar. After telling me 
of the ability of Charley Morton, he thus wrote : " Per- 


mit me to suggest to you one of the most interesting 
and refreshing tours that our continent affords. From 
your city to New York, thence to Niagara Falls, thence 
to Detroit (through Canada). If you can arrive in De- 
troit about the middle of July, Mrs. Coppinburg and I 
will join you there. From this point at that season of 
the year excursions leave every week for a round trip 
of the upper lakes. From Detroit up Lake St. Clair, 
Lake Huron, the Straits of Saint Mary to Lake Superior, 
around this magnificent fresh-water sea with her coast 
of blue mountains and pictured rocks, her copper cliffs, 
her islands and beaches of mountain agate and cornelian. 
On our return strike through the Straits of Mackinaw 
into Lake Michigan, and to its southern extremity, at 
Chicago, a city of about one hundred and twenty-five 
thousand inhabitants. There we will take the cars, and 
in about four hours we will arrive at our home in Con- 
stantine, where you will be glad to rest and make your 
home among us for a while and learn something of our 
Western hospitality." 

I have quoted thus from this kind letter, which was 
written in 1864, that I might mark the changes which 
have taken place in our Western country in the twenty- 
eight years last past. Chicago now contains in this year 
of her Jubilee more than one million inhabitants and 
has now probably, in 1898, as many boys in her streets 
singing or whistling " Hail Columbia" as she had souls 
within her borders in 1864. 

I wish I had space to print even a part of the many 

grateful and patriotic letters which came to me during 

the war, and after its close, from the friends of " the 

boys in blue" who came under my care as well as from 

.01 «• 


the boys themselves. I was told not long ago in defence 
of the length of our present pension list that " no one 
had enlisted during the war from patriotic motives ; the 
love of gain had alone actuated our men." I came to 
the conclusion that the man uttering this opinion must 
have been a pension agent, and that he loved himself 
and not his country. I have written proofs from many 
of our soldiers of the motives which actuated them, and 
I quote from the letter of one woman because she was a 
woman and writing to her brother, a wounded soldier. The 
letter is dated June 9, from Lexington, Massachusetts, and 
runs thus : " We have had our corn cut down three times 
from the frost; it is about four inches high now and is 
as yellow as gold ; some say we are going to have a 
famine, but I don't intend to be ' skairt' before I am 
hurt. I do not believe you was, for you belong to the 
wrong family to be afraid. I wish I was a man so I 
could use your gun until your arm gets well. I think 
it a pity to have it lying idle." 

There is nothing in these written words or in the 
letters I have from any soldier that in the faintest degree 
indicates any but the loftiest motives for entering the 
service of our country. Would that I could accord to 
those framing the Pension Act motives as noble as those 
which inspired our soldiers and sailors during our Civil 

But I must again return to the " hospital days." All 
in those days was not gloom. It was joy to see the glow 
of health returning to pale faces, and it was pleasant 
to hear jokes passing from bed to bed by these comrades 
in distress. Fastened to a shirt in a package of clothing 
from Massachusetts sent to our hospital we found a 


paper which I here copy : " Close by the old battle-ground 
in Lexington, Massachusetts, the birthplace of the liberty 
you are fighting so bravely to preserve for us, was this 
shirt made for you. The young lady who made it hopes 
that these sleeves will enclose two sound arms, and that 
no serious wound confines you to a hospital. And that 
is the wish of all those ladies, both young and old, who 
are daily stitching their tears and sighs of sympathy and 
solicitude into shirts and other hospital needfuls for our 
dear soldiers. We never forget you. E. W. H." 

The man to whom this shirt was given determined to 
find the young lady who made it. Whether he did so 
or not I know not. If he did, a " Song of a Shirt" 
might be written in a more cheerful vein, though not 
more true, than the " Song" by Hood. We gave our 
men all the comfort and also all the pleasure we could. 
Our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were sump- 
tuous. Turkeys flocked to us and cranberries came by 
the barrel. In the early evenings some of the men played 
on the banjo and some sang, and " amateur theatricals" 
were given by some of the youths of our city. These 
performances were well attended by those who were well 
enough to be present and were a delight to all. On one 
occasion a party was given by the men on duty at the 
hospital, and an invitation was sent to the matrons and 
their aids which ran thus : " Ladies, — We, the under- 
signed Committee, with the unanimous sanction of the 
detail, extend to the ladies in attendance (with company) 
an invitation to attend their ' Social Party,' to be given 
this (Tuesday) evening at Railroad House, Eighteenth 
and Market Streets, and hope the entertainment may be 
graced by their welcome presence." The note-paper was 


headed by the hkeness of George Washington as the 
'' Hero of the Past," and beside it was the hkeness of 
General McClellan, the " Hero of the Present." Heroes 
indeed both were, for the heroism which enabled General 
McClellan to take a demoralized and scattering set of 
men and turn them into a well-disciplined and steady 
army was a great work well done. 

One day one of the wounded boys asked me to take 
care of some money he had because he feared to trust it 
in the only place he had to keep it, which was under 
his pillow. I took the roll of notes he gave me, and 
counting them by his side, I found he had four hundred 
and twenty dollars. I put the money safely away, and 
the next day he told me he felt very badly and wanted 
me to make his will. This I did, but before I began to 
write he told me his sad little history. His mother and 
father were Irish and lived in New York. His mother 
had died when the boy was barely grown up, and after her 
death he enlisted in the regular army and was sent West, 
leaving his father and younger brother, named " Danny," 
at home. His father wrote him pitiful letters describing 
his loneliness and bemoaning the loss of his wife. After 
three years, the term of his enlistment being over, he 
wrote to his father and endeavored to cheer him with 
the thought of soon seeing him. His father then wrote 
him that he would find the family larger than when he 
left, for two years and a half before he had married 
again and he would find a little sister running to welcome 

This made the boy indignant, and he re-enlisted. After 
telling me that he could have forgiven his father every- 
thing but his deception, he added, " I want all I have to 


go to Danny, my brother, and you must promise to see 
that it is kept for him until he comes of age." This I 
promised, and I made his will according to his directions. 
I felt anxious about my patient, for he had been growing 
more and more feeble for several days, but after he had 
signed his will he seemed to revive and took nourishment 
with pleasure. 

I was anxious lest my will-making was not as it should 
be, and in the middle of the day I went home and laid 
it before my father, who said he believed it to be all 
right, but I had better consult a younger lawyer. This 
I did, and was told by Isaac Hazelhurst that the will 
would stand as long as the will of Stephen Girard. I 
went back to the hospital to find the poor boy gone from 

I had his body cared for and wrote instantly to his 
father, whose address I had. I received no answer, and 
then I telegraphed. Still no answer, and then I wrote 
asking whether the father wished his John buried here, 
and told him he had left some money in my hands. The 
next morning before I was up the father came, and with 
much brogue and many tears said he \vould like to bury 
John beside his mother, and he also asked me to give 
him John's money. This I declined to do, telling him 
John had left all he had to Danny. My surprise was 
great when he told me Danny had been dead some months. 
I refused to believe this without proof, so he returned 
to New York, and after two days returned, bringing 
certificates of Danny's death and burial from the under- 
taker and priest, and also bringing the New York Herald, 
in which John's death was announced as having occurred 
only the day before, and including an invitation to his 


funeral the next day. When I remonstrated on the false 
entry made of John's death he said, " And do ye think 
if I said the right date ony one would come and he dead 
so long?" I did not give up the money until I carried 
it to Mr. Isaac Hazelhurst, and in his presence this Mr. 
McBride signed a receipt in full to me. That cere- 
mony over, he turned to me and said, " My dear lady, 
perhaps some day ye'll be wanting a little pin-money, 
so here it is," and he handed me a hundred-dollar bill. 
I gave him no thanks and handed it back to him. 



Once I met with a disaster in the hospital. I was 
going down the steep narrow stairway with a waiterful 
of cups, saucers, and pans, which I was taking to be 
washed. I saw a gentle Quaker lady standing at the 
foot of the stairs holding a rice pudding in her hands. 
In my eagerness to let her come up, for the stairs were 
too narrow for two passengers, my foot slipped and down 
I fell, not into the rice pudding, for the Friend saved 
that. She did not drop it to help me, but said in a 
compassionate voice as I and my waiter reached the 
floor, " Is thee hurt?" I ached in every bone in my 
body, but said in quite a cheerful tone, " Nothing is 
hurt." I gathered myself and my cups together (not one 
broken) and went on my way to the pantry, while she 
mounted the stairs, her composure and her rice pudding 
both perfect. I longed for such self-command, but, alas ! 
I have never found it. 

One of our aids at Broad and Cherry Streets was Mrs. 
Mills, who devoted two afternoons in every week to the 
work of caring for the soldiers. She was a stranger 
when she came among us, but we soon learned to re- 
spect her and to lean upon her in emergencies. She 
had four young children whom she supported by her 
needle; she was brought to us by a lady whom we all 

One afternoon quite late we received a message that 
two hundred men would arrive that evening at nine 


o'clock, and that all things necessary for their comfort 
must be in readiness. I could not stay and many of the 
ladies had left. I ran over the whole building and found 
four who could remain and see that the beef-tea was hot 
and the milk-punch not tasted by the orderlies. Mrs. 
Patterson was at her post, and Mrs. Mills agreed to stay 
in my place. The next morning I heard that Mrs. Mills 
had fainted while the men were being carried in, I found 
the beds all full of sufferers from wounds or disease, 
and was absorbed all day in caring for them. Early 
the next day Dr. Neill sent for me and asked me whether 
I had noticed a man named Miller on my floor, not 
wounded, but quite feeble. I told him " yes," but that 
he was very quiet and did not want anything that I could 
do for him. Then Dr. Neill told me a pitiful history. 
Mrs. Mills was an Englishwoman, her husband the son 
of a clergyman. They had come to this country to 
settle, when her husband, being unfortunate in business, 
became dissipated, enlisted in the army, and was sent 
to the frontier to fight the Indians. She lived on here 
working for her children's daily bread. At first her 
husband wrote to her, but for seven years she had heard 
nothing from him and believed him dead. A year be- 
fore the father of her husband had died leaving property 
to his son, which (he being in the eye of the law dead) 
was to come to the Mills children. 

On the night when Mrs. Mills took my place she was 
turning from giving milk-punch to a patient, when she 
saw a man carried past her and knew it was her husband. 
She fled away and fainted, but being determined to con- 
vince herself that she was right, after she recovered she 
went back and saw that it was surely he. She left the 


hospital and advised with the lady who had brought her 
to us as to her next course. This lady was with Dr. 
Neill while they told me this tale, and then they both 
asked me to do what I could to gather from the man 
his history, and above all to try to persuade him to give 
up to his children the little property. Day after day I 
went to that man and did what I could to cheer him, 
but he seemed indifferent and cold. At length when he 
was stronger I asked him if he would like me to write 
to any of his friends. I added, "Have you no wife? 
No children?" He looked at me for a moment and 
then said, " I know what you are driving at; I saw my 
wife the night I came here peeping at me from behind 
that pillar." I said, " Yes, you did see her, but why have 
you been so cruel towards her?" 

Then he told me he was a wretch and did not deserve 
his wife. I broke gently to him his father's death and 
proposed that he should give to his wife and children 
the little property left by his father. The death of his 
father did not move him, but he was amused at my propo- 
sition with regard to the money. Finally after much 
persuasion he signed a paper giving up one-half the 
property on condition that two of his children should 
be allowed to come and see him twice a week. This 
was done, and he left the hospital to return to the front, 
and died shortly after in Baltimore. 

On one occasion we had six Confederate soldiers 
brought to us, all from Texas, and all so badly wounded 
that they could not feed themselves. They were put 
into a room by themselves and tenderly cared for by 
the surgeons. They were not on my floor and I had 
not seen them, but when they had been there a few days 


one of the orderlies came to me (himself a wounded 
man) to ask me to go to see those men when they were 
fed, adding, " It makes my blood boil to see the treat- 
ment they receive." I did as he asked, and found the 
lady in charge going from bed to bed with a bowl of 
soup and a wooden spoon nearly half a yard long with 
which she fed these poor souls, without ever addressing 
one kind word to them. After she had finished I went 
out with her and told her unless her mode of feeding 
those men was changed she could not go to them again. 
She gave up the charge with a bad grace, and I had 
permission to install in her place the orderly whose 
" blood boiled" when he came to me. The men recovered, 
and at length were able to go in an omnibus to the Park 
before they were exchanged. Now came the question 
of clothing for them, but a little asking from our friends 
gave us all they wanted, and they looked well in their 
suits, though they did not quite fit them. But when they 
were ready to go to drive they had no hats. Then it 
was that the hats of 1830 were brought from the top 
shelf of the storeroom, and a more comical-looking group 
I never saw. They laughed, I laughed, and all the guards 
and attendants laughed, and perhaps the men themselves 
are laughing now, as I hope they are, in prosperous 
Southern homes at those funny hats. 

One more story and I will leave the hospital. I had 
been caring for a man who was ill with fever for several 
days. His fever ran high, and one morning when I came 
I saw a woman bending over him. She was his wife, 
but he did not know her. When she raised her head 
I saw that she was young and that she wore around her 
head a band of black velvet fastened with a large gilt 


eagle. Her face wore an expression of pain, brought 
there by the condition of her husband, but above the pain 
sat the eagle with its outstretched wings. I wondered 
that in her agony she did not tear it from her head; I 
thought she would never wear it a second day. A sec- 
ond day and many days came, but still the eagle kept 
its place. The man's mind wandered more and more; 
his life seemed ebbing. Still the eagle held the band of 
velvet, and I trembled, for with a superstitious feeling 
I likened it to our American eagle. Below it tears ran 
and were wiped away, hope came and was chased away 
by stern despair, which sat and seemed to stay, while 
the eagle watched over the fate of that wretched man 
as our eagle watched the fate of the wandering minds 
in our land. Almost breathless I awaited the issue, feel- 
ing that it would be typical of our fate as a nation. 
One morning I found the eagle bowed, the woman's face 
it surmounted hidden, while tears of joy and thankful- 
ness streamed from her eyes : the wandering mind had 
regained its balance and the wife knew that her husband's 
life and reason were spared. I said in my heart. May 
we bow our heads in humility and thankfulness when 
reason resumes its sway in our distracted country, and 
when we all feel once more that our interests are one; 
our life the same. Thanks be to God, our prayers are 

I could fill volumes with the tales of the sufferers whom 
I saw within those hospital walls and other volumes with 
the tales of self-sacrifice of the women who ministered 
to the wants of the patients, but I desist from writing 
what I fear will never be read. 

Home duties and cares compelled me to leave my 


hospital work before the war was ended, but I then gave 
my thoughts and all the time I could spare to the work 
of the Women's Branch of the Sanitary Commission in 
Philadelphia. A committee of twenty-four women was 
formed, which was called the " Women's Special Relief 
Committee." Our plan was to give the wives and mothers 
of our soldiers work, and to pay them more than the 
army contractors paid for the same work. 

Mr, Alfred K. Jessup heard of our plan and entered 
into it most heartily. He opened a subscription book, 
heading it with his own name, and his example was 
quickly followed by many business men, so that in a 
very few days we had promises of monthly subscriptions 
for large amounts. We then took two rooms in the third 
story of the house at the southeast corner of Chestnut 
and Thirteenth Streets and began our work. 

We engaged from the contractors large numbers of 
garments to be made and promised to see that they were 
properly finished. My heart sank when I saw furniture- 
cars drive up loaded with material for these garments. 
They were all cut out, it is true, but the trimmings, tape, 
thread, etc., had to be parcelled out, so that each work- 
woman should have her full share of work. Then came 
the workwomen. Each had a sad tale to tell, but when 
the work was finished she received twice the amount she 
would have received from a contractor, and her heart 
was made glad. Two of the Committee were on duty 
every morning and two every afternoon. Hundreds of 
women were thus employed, and through this work we 
were enabled to give further assistance. Coal was offered 
to us from the mines free of charge, and through the 
kindness of Mr. Samuel Bradford, the then treasurer of 


the Reading Railroad Company, was brought to Phila- 
delphia without expense to us; the coal merchants in 
different parts of our city stored and delivered it with- 
out charge to those entitled to receive it. Thus many 
a sad household was kept warm, but not warmer were 
they than the hearts of those who gave us the power to 
dispense these favors. 

We took turns in the Committee as " receivers" from 
the contractors. My companion was Mrs. Caspar Wister. 
When we had opened, sorted, and arranged the bundles 
of work for the week we were covered with lint, and 
with joy that our work was done. The members of the 
Committee were obliged to visit the workwomen under 
their care and were held responsible for their characters, 
so that our work was not thrown away on either the 
idle or the improvident. 

During the war I went several times to Washington, 
sometimes for rest, sometimes to help raise funds for our 
military hospitals. The daughter of Admiral Harwood, 
U.S.N., impersonated " Mrs. Jarley," the renowned head 
of the Wax- Work Show of " The Old Curiosity Shop." 
She rivalled the great Original in her wit, and her cos- 
tumes and acting were perfect, and the proceeds of her 
shows were always turned to the relief of suffering. 
Without persuasion, I agreed to impersonate the " Lady 
who died of Dancing at the age of one hundred and 
sixteen years." I arrived in Washington to find a very 
large hall with a crowded audience. We " figures" were 
carried to the front of the stage, were described by our 
inimitable owner, and were then " wound up." I was 
inspired to do my best as a dancer by the amusement 
it afforded to a gentleman in the audience whom I 


had never seen before, and felt sorry when my works 
had to " run down." The next day I heard that this 
same gentleman was suffering pain from his hearty 
laughter, and his name was Edwin M. Stanton, the then 
Secretary of War. 

On another occasion, I went to visit my cousin, Mrs. 
General Emory, and found a message from the general 
(then stationed at Alexandria, Virginia) inviting his 
wife and me to take luncheon with him the next day. 
Mrs. Emory was anxious I should go, and I agreed 
gladly, provided I could return to Washington in time 
to take the train at four o'clock for Bladensburg, where 
I had promised to dine and spend the night with the 
Harwoods. I was assured that this could be readily 
accomplished, as a boat left Alexandria daily at three 
P.M., which would give me ample time for my purpose. 

The luncheon was pleasant, and I left for the boat 
accompanied by the general, Mrs. Emory, and several 
officers. I was put on board and we left the wharf 
safely, but had not reached the channel when the boat 
ran aground. We swung there for what seemed to me 
a very long time, but as my friends all stood laughing 
on the shore, I hoped I had time to accomplish my pur- 
pose. We landed in W^ashington, where, instead of find- 
ing broken-down hacks with which Washington then 
abounded, I found only a very long omnibus. The few 
passengers who came with me on the boat walked off, 
and I made a bargain with the omnibus driver that he 
would take me to the station in time for the four o'clock 
train. This he promised to do, and, after pocketing his 
fare, we drove off quite rapidly. My hopes were raised, 
when suddenly one of the hind wheels of the omnibus 


came off, and I was left in a slanting and most uncom- 
fortable position. After securing his horses, which I 
thought quite unnecessary, the driver came and ex- 
tricated me and my hand-bag. He told me if I would 
run to the nearest hack-stand, I would still have time 
to reach my train. I did run quite a distance, found a 
hack, paid double fare, and the man drove well. I flew 
into the station just in time to see the back of the last 
car in my train speeding on the road. I waited breath- 
less for a moment or two and then began to walk up the 
hill back to the city. I met a man running with his 
hand-bag, and my sad experience prompted me to call out 
to him, " Man, man, don't run ; your train is gone." He 
paused and said, " Where were you going?" " To Bla- 
densburg," I answered. " Come with me," was his kind 
reply, and taking my hand, we ran together to the sta- 
tion. When we reached it, he left me, saying, " Wait 
an instant." He returned at once, telling me he was going 
on an express train beyond Bladensburg, and he had gone 
to the officials to beg them to stop the train for me to 
alight at Bladensburg, but to his regret they had refused 
his request. I thanked him, he bid me a kind farewell, 
and I watched him enter the train, saw it leave, and felt 
that " the last link was broken ;" but, alas ! my trials 
were not yet ended. As I walked slowly up the hill, 
I remembered that although a good dinner was being 
prepared for me by the Harwood family, no such prepa- 
ration was made by the Emory household, as Mrs. Emory 
was to dine with the general and come home later. After 
pondering a while, I decided to go to a restaurant. I 
went to one of the best and ordered " one dozen oysters 
on the shell." They came and I looked about for salt. 


I saw two cruets standing near, one containing pepper, 
the other, as I thought, salt; I made the oysters white, 
put one into my mouth, and found I had given, them a 
thick coating of sugar. Tears came to my reUef then, 
but the sad tale brings only laughter now to those who 
love me. 

During the last year of the war the " Central Sanitary 
Fair" was held in aid of the work of the Sanitary Com- 
mission, The Fair Buildings were erected in Logan 
Square, and the project was carried to a most successful 
issue through the efforts of the States of Delaware, 
New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, Every one was inter- 
ested. Rich men gave a proportion of their income; 
poor men and women contributed the proceeds of one 
day's labor. Tradesmen gave from their stores and 
shops. All gave with hearty good will. It was pro- 
posed to have a post-office connected with the Fair, and 
a committee was formed to take charge of the work. 
I was elected postmistress, and Mr. Walborn, the then 
Postmaster of Philadelphia, was appointed to assist the 
postmistress, so that she might be instructed in the 
duties of carrying on the Fair post-office. The Com- 
mitte was composed of clever men and women, and all 
worked well. Letters were written, acrostics to fair 
belles were penned, and the youthful beaux were not 
forgotten. Generous friends of the cause we were work- 
ing for, instigated by Mr. Joseph R. Carpenter, provided 
the post-office with beautiful stamps for ten cents, twenty 
cents, or thirty cents, according to the value of the lines 
within. All letters where the writers were unknown to 
us were carefully examined, so that our post-office should 
be the means of conveying only compliments or pleasant 



words to those receiving the letters. Lest the reader 

should think the price of postage high, I mean to give 

a few examples of the letters, and feel sure that will be 

considered marvellously cheap. The first I shall copy 

was one written to the Rev. Phillips Brooks. It ran 

thus : 

" So broad, so unsullied, so rapid, so clear. 
So full and so steady throughout the whole year, 
By coldness not hardened, by sunshine not dried. 
Flowing on deep and strong with a calm rushing tide, 
If Brooks be all this, I have not the least notion 
What occasion the world could have had for an ocean." 

A member of the Committee (a lady) had her photo- 
graph taken in Quaker costume, and another member 
of the Committee of the sterner sex was inspired to write 
the following verses, for which the would-be Quakeress 
most gladly paid the postage : 


" Where did thee get that funny cap ? 
That excruciating shawl? 
Those mitts so sweetly knitted, 
That skirt so very small? 

" I think I see before me 
Dear Hannah Callowhill, 
Or some other sainted Quakeress 
Who came over with ' our Bill.' 

" All caps require setting oflf. 
Even when on a gun, 
And really that concern of thine 
Looks only just begun. 

" I presume 'tis true religion 

That makes thee dress so plain. 
Or perhaps thou art ' a friend in need' 
Declining worldly gain. 


" Thy dress indeed is meek enough, 
Not quite so meek thine eyes ; 
If Aminidab can master thee 
He must be twice thy size. 

" That oft good spirits move thee 
I entertain no doubt, 
But I fear in wit and humor 
They're too apt to break out. 

" So in looking on thy picture. 

Though its colors are but sad, 
I recognize the liveliest face, 
Our post-office hath had. 

" Sanitary Fair, June 28, 1864." 

The busy brains of those connected witli the Fair 
worked hard day and night, and all sorts of expedients 
were resorted to to insure success. In connection with the 
post-office, a " Nonsense Book" was written, published, 
and sold. A few of our friends divided the letters of 
the alphabet among- them and each wrote a verse on 
the letter thus chosen. The wisdom of Boston was 
thtis introduced : 

" There was a young lady of Boston, 
And the vaguest of doubts she was tossed on. 
Of effect and of cause she discoursed without pause. 
This enlightened young person of Boston." 

The letter D was thus made use of: 

" There was an old chap of Dahomey 
Whose soil was more sterile than loamy. 
So he bagged little niggers, which he sold at high figgers 
To the Yankees which trade at Dahomey." 

The history of the Fall of Man followed in few words : 


" There was a dear creature of Eden 
Who on apples was quite fond of feedin', 
So she gave one to Adam, who said, ' Thank you, madam,* 
And then both skedaddled from Eden." 

The patient Job was thus described : 

" There was an old buffer of Uz, 

And it's troubled with boils that he was; 

He declined to blaspheme, but just rubbed on cold cream 

With, ' Bedad, it is painful to Uz.' " 

One more verse, if verse it can be called, comes to my 
memory : 

" There was a young girl of Woonsocket 
Who casually swallowed a rocket. 
But with a loud hiccough she just threw the stick up 
And frightened the town of Woonsocket." 

The illustrations in this book were very fine; they 
were made by a young artist of Boston, Hamilton Wilde, 
whose memory will not easily fade as either artist or 
friend, for he was much beloved. 

One great difficulty in providing enough letters for 
those who called suddenly for them was met by two mem- 
bers of our Committee. One brought a paper glove 
(without a thumb) in which scented powder was placed, 
and after ordering a great number of these, the Com- 
mittee furnished any number of rhymes to be enclosed 
vv'ith the gloves. One wrote, — 

" All common gloves in pair do go. 
And I have lost my thumb I know, 

Yet I can soon disclose 
A charm which makes me much more rare 
Than a fresh new Parisian pair, — 

Just hold me to thy nose." 


Another wrote, — 

" In ancient days each gallant knight 

In honor of his lady-love 

Displayed upon his helm her glove 
When he went forth to fight. 
My glove I send for you to wear ; 

Sir Knight, you'll place it near your heart, 

And never, never from it part. 
There's magic in its perfume rare ; 

A talisman and potent charm 

'Twill prove, to guard thee from all harm." 

Our gloves sold rapidly, and we then turned our 
thoughts to the knitting of yellow garters, which we 
were told would insure the wearer being happily married 
within the year 1864. Pens were as busy making verses 
to go with the garters as were the knitting-needles in 
their manufacture. One or two I must transcribe : 

" They tell me that within this Fair 

An article is sold 
Intended for a lady's wear. 

As yellow 'tis as gold. 
They say it is a compound thing 

And never goes alone : 
'Tis something like a wedding-ring 

And makes two people one. 
To matrimony they conduce, 

But you must have a pair ; 
One would not be the slightest use, 

For one you'd never wear. 
They can be made or straight or round, 

Just as you may desire. 
Some wear them very near the ground 

And some prefer them higher. 
This golden circle claims its knights 

Among the true and royal ; 
No traitrous blot its 'scutcheon blots, 

'Tis worn by princes royal. 


When first its wondrous powers were known 

'Twas in a courtly dance, 
The seeds of future greatness sown 

Just by the merest chance. 
Now if you're versed in history 

Its story you'll recall ; 
For though it seems a mystery, 

Its rise came from a fall. 
If you would like to change your state 

And wedlock wish to try. 
You will no longer hesitate, 

This article you'll buy." 

A letter was sent to one of the Committee containing 
a silken garter and these lines : 

" A present here I send to you, 
I pray you do not laugh ; 
It don't come up to a pair of kids, 
But it goes above a calf." 

The following answer was sent at once: 

" No well-turned leg should ever gartered be 
' Above the calf,' but just above the knee; 
And should, like kids, our garters ever go higher. 
The ruin of the country would be dire. 
The silken band to me has value far 
Above all kids imported since the war." 

The history of the whole Fair I cannot give, but all 
the Committees, and there were many, fulfilled their 
duties admirably. The result was the addition of more 
than one million dollars to the treasury of the Sanitary 
Commission. Of this sum the post-office contributed 
but a small part ; still, I often think that if the tree which 
still stands near the middle of Logan Square, and under 
;which the post-office stood, could speak and repeat the 


many witty letters which passed in and out from that 
post-office window, there would be amusement for those 
of this day from the writings of those who lived in 

One of the projects resorted to to draw a crowd to 
the Fair originated with, and was carried successfully 
through by, Mr. Clement B. Barclay, of Philadelphia. 
He had spent much time " at the front" and had devoted 
his life and means to the care of the wounded and dying. 
He knew the great need there was for further care and 
for money to carry on the work of relieving suffering, 
and with this in view he went North, and as Indians 
and their customs were not as well known to us then 
as now, he brought from the northern part of the State 
of New York a band of Indians, and with this " side 
show" he was for about ten days quite successful. The 
Indians gave two exhibitions each day and danced a 
war-dance before admiring spectators, who paid twenty- 
five cents for the privilege thus afforded, but after a 
short time this excitement seemed to pall upon the audi- 
ences, and Mr. Barclay determined to bring forward the 
history of " Pocahontas." The door-keeper took the part 
of Captain Smith, and a little drilling of the actors made 
the drama almost perfect. Crowds flocked to see it, and 
to the last day of the Fair eye-witnesses shuddered when 
Pocahontas made her timely entree and saved the life 
of Smith. 

During the last week of the Fair many of the Com- 
mittees in charge of the booths opened subscriptions for 
gifts to those persons who had been most actively engaged 
in projecting the Fair and carrying out its details. Just 
at this time the President and Mrs. Lincoln visited the 


Fair. The crowd in their desire to see them pressed 
upon them with such eagerness that the police were called 
to protect them in their passage through the Fair. 

A little boy, seeing Mrs. Lincoln with a stalwart police- 
man on each side of her, called out, " Mother, look ; there 
goes a female pickpocket." After the crowd dispersed 
some one found a wooden Jumping Jack just outside the 
post-office window and handed it in to the person in 
charge. In the evening one of the Committee proposed 
that a ten-cent subscription should be opened at once 
and the Jumping Jack presented to Mr. Barclay. Before 
the evening was over thirty dollars were realized for this 
purpose and to the profit of the post-office. 

The next morning a then rising lawyer and a member 
of the Post-Office Committee, now a " righteous judge," 
a " learned judge" * in our city, handed to the postmis- 
tress the following lines, which were read with much 
ceremony to Mr. Barclay in the evening: 

Immortal Barclay, not of Perkins' firm, 

Whose well-known ale makes lesser brewers squirm, 

But high renowned where other ails prevail, 

In deadly sickness or from iron hail. 

We greet you : master of the savage horde, 

Thy gentle nature never can be bored 

When Pocahontas stays too long at tea 

And Smith impatient begs his steak to see ; 

Thy noble presence calms the vulgar strife, 

Powhattan drops his club and spares the victor's life. 

The Post-Office Committee never fear 

To sell dear letters if they have you near ; 

The timid maiden dreaming of her loves 

Receives quite willingly our high-price gloves; 

* Judge Biddle. 


The sober matron prinks herself up smarter, 
And with a simper pays us for a garter; 
E'en the gay youth who thinks the place a bore 
Gives for one letter the full price of four. 
Such services as these they can't o'erlook, 
Especially as you've sold their ' Nonsense Book.' 
On their behalf and that of other friends, 
For such great kindness to make some amends, 
Accept this Jumping Jack ; 'tis made of wood, 
And would be handsome, doubtless, if it could ; 
When in repose it's not at all the thing, 
To judge our feelings you must pull the string." 

Within the next year the war ended and peace was 
once more granted to our country. Bright indeed was 
the page in the history of our country, when the leader of 
our victorious army, General Grant, gave General Lee 
his sword again, and returned the horses to the defeated 
army that they might drop the cannon and draw the 
plough. Since the world began I think no words from 
any victorious general have had power to thrill a people 
as those words of General Grant have and still do thrill 
the hearts of the people of our country. 

The terrible death of the President filled us all with 
dismay and sorrow. Just as he was most needed he 
went from us. Both political parties mourned his loss, 
but with women there was much bitterness. I met a 
lady after the President was in his grave, who told me 
that in her opinion every Democrat should be hanged 
at the first lamp-post. I thanked her and told her that 
as I saw a lamp-post near by, I would leave her. 

Thus I gladly leave those terrible times. I planned 
in beginning my " Book of Remembrance" to put all 
sorrow aside, and for that I have struggled, though per- 
haps not successfully. 



In 1865, through the changes which come to us all 
in this mortal life, I was left alone with my daughter, 
my niece, and nephew, but they were all children. Our 
pleasures were few, but my time was absorbed in the 
education of my girls. Our summers were spent in New 
England wherever my brother, Rev. Richard B. Duane, 
selected a spot. In the winter of 1867- 1868 we had the 
great pleasure to listen to Charles Dickens's readings 
from his own works. This was a delight, for from the 
opening chapters of the " Pickwick Papers" his books 
had for me great interest and peculiar charm. His wit 
was so keen, his insight into human nature so clear, his 
charity for all so evident, and his pathos so easily under- 
stood by any one who had had sorrow, that I have found 
in his writings a sympathetic answer to my feelings, 
whatever might be the mood. 

I had taken my seat for his readings long before he 
came to Philadelphia, and had listened to him with 
intense delight, but on the evening when he read the 
" Christmas Carol" I was completely absorbed. I think 
I never turned my eyes from his face while he read. 
The day after Mr. George W. Childs sent for me; but 
this that good and noble man often did, sometimes to 
offer me a helping hand in my work, sometimes to ask 
me to help him in his constant care of others. When I 
reached his office he told me that Mr. Dickens had asked 
him, after describing where I sat, who I was, and had 


added, " I never had a more attentive listener." He 
then told Mr. Childs he would be very glad to see me 
in his dressing-room after the next reading. I said 
" Yes" gladly to this invitation, and thus emboldened 
I sent Mr. Dickens a houtonnicre on the morning of 
his next reading, and had the following acknowledg- 
ment : 

" Dear Madam : — 

" Accept my cordial thanks for your kind note, and with them 
the assurance that I shall have great pleasure in wearing your 
flowers this evening. 

" Faithfully yours always, 

" Charles Dickens. 
" Mrs. Gillespie. 

" Philadelphia, Thursday, Thirtieth Jan'y, 1868." 

Together Mr. Childs and I went into the dressing- 
room and found Mr. Dickens very tired and very warm. 
His welcome was most hearty; he thanked me for being 
an attentive listener and asked me which reading I had 
liked best. I told him " The Christmas Carol," and 
added, " I read that aloud to my mother when it was 
first published, and then told her I hoped I should later 
take a walk in heaven between Sydney Smith and Charles 
Dickens." Mr. Dickens laughed heartily, and after a 
most interesting conversation we rose to leave him. He 
held my hand in his, and said, " Good-night ; I shall not 
forget that walk in heaven, but remember, you will see 
the back buttons of my coat through my heavenly body." 
I never heard him speak again, but hope he still remem- 
bers the walk which is to come. 

In recording this incident I recall the Shakespeare 
Readings by Fanny Kemble. They were a delight to 


the whole American pubHc and the clamor for reserved 
seats was great. Many complained that seats were 
secured before the box-office was opened. Hearing this, 
Mrs. Kemble, with her strong sense of justice, deter- 
mined that there should in future be no seats reserved. 
This was a blow to many, but especially to a friend of 
mine who was not strong, and unable either to stand 
outside until the doors were opened or to wait in her seat 
for an hour after they were opened. I offered to go 
early and, if possible, hold a seat for her on the fourth 
bench from the front. I stood for one hour and a half 
in the street, and with a companion found my way to 
the place I had indicated to my invalid friend. We soon 
found that the ushers would allow no space left on the 
seats, and being determined that my friend "Susan" 
(Mrs. J. Dickinson Logan) should not be disappointed, I 
took my water-proof cloak, stuffed a tippet in the hood 
to make it look like a human head, then holding the head 
up on my umbrella, the seat beside me was occupied! 
Whenever an usher came near I twisted the umbrella so 
that the front of the hood was towards me, and said 
(addressing the cloak), "I cannot move another inch, 
Susan, and I think you are unfit to come into a crowd 
if this is so unpleasant to you," or, " Susan, if you do 
not like your position you had better go home; there 
are many who would be glad to have your place." The 
stratagem was successful, at which I wondered, for all 
our neighbors were convulsed with laughter, but " Susan" 
came just before the reading began, and I was contented. 
That was not my only daring adventure in my " years 
of discretion." I acted constantly then in charades, 
often taking the part of a Quaker lady. Two friends 


of mine proposed that I should have my photograph 
taken in Quaker dress, and one of them, Mrs. A. L. 
Wister, who Hved in Arch Street, suggested my changing 
my dress at her house and walking to Gutekunst's, six 
blocks farther down Arch Street, attired as one of the 
Society of Friends. I agreed, and walked between Mrs, 
Wister and the young Boston artist, Hamilton Wilde, 
meeting as we went almost the only " Friend" I knew. 
He recognized me, was greatly amused, and proposed 
going with us, but I begged him not, fearing I should 
not be able to behave with decorum if there were so 
many near me when the picture was taken. At last we 
reached Gutekunst's. I took my place and was posed 
for a " Friend" by Mr. Gutekunst, who asked to take 
a second impression, not being satisfied with the first. 
Mr. Wilde suggested that perhaps that would fatigue 
" Friend Price," but I said, as quietly as I could (being 
in mortal terror of discovery), " It may fatigue me, but 
if Josiah is contented I shall be repaid; I am sitting here 
for his sake." The second impression was entirely satis- 
factory, and as many of my friends desired copies, I went 
one day to order some, and was told I should bring an 
order from " Elizabeth Price herself." I sent for Mr. 
Gutekunst, explained how matters stood, and with much 
amusement (for he had not recognized me) he took my 

In 1868 a very strange thing happened. We were 
all at " Little Boar's Head," New Hampshire, with my 
brother, Rev. Dr. Duane, and his family. He proposed 
that he and I should sail to the Isles of Shoals. After 
consultation with a " skipper" of the place, we arranged 
to go early in the morning of the first fine day. A clear 


sunset one Sunday determined us to go the next morn- 
ing, and having decided to take with us all we could of 
our children, who liked sailing, we went to our beds 
rejoicing. I dreamed that we went, and that after sail- 
ing a long time we came to a high stone wall over which 
a row of nuns with white caps were looking; when they 
saw us they shook their heads mournfully, as if to tell 
us our doom was sealed. So terrible was this dream 
that I awoke and found daylight just peeping, I could 
not again compose myself to sleep, and when my brother 
came to call me, I told him my dream and said I preferred 
not to go. He laughed at me for being superstitious, 
begged me to go, and I went, taking with me my three 
children and he four of his flock. The morning was 
bright, but we had not gone far before a heavy fog set- 
tled upon us, and my brother told our " captain" to get 
out his compass. To our horror he told us he had for- 
gotten it ! We were indignant but very quiet ; my brother 
simply said, pointing to the children, " You brought this 
precious freight without a compass?" Some of "the 
precious freight" showing signs of sickness, my brother 
called upon all, who were able, to look ahead, and if any 
one saw either a boat or land to " sing out." On we 
went in silence; at last I called out, " I see land; there 
are white-caps." The captain turned our little craft 
quickly in another direction, and told us with a gasp 
we were just on a reef of rocks, which he called by name. 
My brother grasped my hand and said, " The white-caps 
in your dream." We reached the Isles of Shoals with 
thankful hearts. 

Early in the summer of 1868 my dear friend, Howard 
Potter, wrote to me asking if I would be willing to meet 


him in Berlin in the autumn, bringing with me my niece 
and daughter, and later take charge of his two daughters 
and give the four girls the opportunity to study music 
in the home of that art and the language where it could 
be acquired with ease. 

This offer was most generous and I gladly accepted it. 
On the 29th of September we sailed from Hoboken for 
Hamburg, The first day passed comfortably, but the 
morning of the next day found us most wretched. The 
stewardess came with the compliments of the purser 
to ask how old I was; I told her to tell the purser I 
could have told him my age when I came on board, but 
at that moment I did not know whether I was two or 
ninety. Neither the children nor I understood one word 
of German, but I hoped we should be as successful as 
an Irish maid I once saw, who told me she had travelled 
all over Europe with " a dale of pintin' " and " a few 
faces." During the voyage the children both learned, 
from our fellow-passengers, to count up to ten, and thus 
stored, as I felt them to be, with useful knowledge, we 
landed. Our voyage was not free from the usual an- 
noyances of a sea- voyage except for my niece (Becky), 
who was perfectly well and extended her knowledge of 
German to " essen." After some days my daughter 
and I came from our state-rooms, and I began an inspec- 
tion of our fellow-passengers. The day we left New 
York I saw a German lady on deck industriously and 
with much vigor knitting a stocking. When I emerged 
from my cabin I saw the same lady sitting with eyes 
shut, a smelling-bottle in her hand, and to all appearances 
indifferent as to whether she might ever wear another 
stocking. I was sorry for her, but when she told me that 


she was going to Hamburg to end her days with a mar- 
ried daughter, I was sorry for her myself, for while I 
was retired in the cabin I had volunteered the promise 
to my children that I never again would cross the water, 
and when I felt better I longed for my own land. The 
sight of England's chalky coast filled me with delight, 
and I am sure that Noah did not greet his " weary dove" 
with more enthusiasm than I felt when the pilot came 
from the shore who was to guide us through the Chan- 
nel. He was a short, ruddy-faced man, " No. 35," but 
my feelings quite overcame me when he ran up the side 
of the vessel. 

Our passage through the North Sea was quiet, and 
on Sunday, October 1 1, we reached Hamburg. We hoped 
on Saturday night to tread the earth once more early 
on Sunday, but the tide did not serve, and we were 
obliged to lay in the Elbe for several hours. We spent 
our time watching the little boats which crowded around 
the steamer bringing all sorts of things for sale. One 
young lad had a boat-load of apples. We bought some, 
and finding them very good, we inquired what he would 
take for the whole boat-load. He named his price, " two 
thalers," which we gave him cheerfully, and then dis- 
tributed the apples among the sailors and firemen, who 
cheered the givers though unknown to them. It seemed 
to me that the passengers should have cheered them for 
the faithful discharge of their duty. 

I felt anxious when the small steamer in which we were 
to land came alongside, for I hoped to see the face of 
my friend, Howard Potter, although I had assured him 
that I was quite capable of managing for myself; how- 
ever, I was not then prepared for a plunge into the in- 



tricacies of the German language, and was much reheved 
when a young man came up to me and, calhng me by 
name, handed me two letters from Mr. Potter, telling 
me they were already in Berlin and would be glad if 
I could join them as soon as possible, and that Mr. 
Mendelssohn meantime would take good care of me. I 
smiled at the youthful stranger and thanked him, calling 
him " Mr. Mendelssohn." 

He seemed pleased and asked me when I would leave 
for Berlin, as Mr. Potter had telegraphed he would meet 
us at the station. I told Mr. Mendelssohn that I could 
not leave early the next day, as I must draw money 
for my journey. Pie said, " Draw from me," and told 
me he would send his servant at six p.m. for a note, to 
let him know how much money I would have. He then 
put us into a carriage shaped like the pumpkin in which 
Cinderella went to the ball, and his servant mounting 
the box, we were driven through beautiful streets and 
past houses with very wide windows, behind which were 
many flowers. When we reached the hotel I read again 
the note from Mr. Potter, and found that it was the 
agent of Mr. Mendelssohn who had met me and not Mr. 
Mendelssohn, I was in despair. The servant returned 
for my note, and as he understood not one word of 
English, I roared at the top of my voice, " Who is the 
gentleman who met me?" I got only a bow and smile 
for an answer. I summoned one of the hotel servants 
who spoke English, and discovered the agent's name 
was Wolff. I wrote my note, and received in return a 
roll of money which seemed enough to last us for a 

The next morning early we left for Berlin. We had 


two ladies as travelling companions; one spoke poor 
French and called my children " enfongs." We saw at 
the station the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg and his third 
bride; he dressed in a blue coat and yellow gloves, she 
a stout, well-looking young girl. They entered the rail- 
road carriage behind us, and so their honey-moon rose 
while we were tasting the delights of foreign travel for 
the first time. After eight hours' travel we reached Ber- 
lin, and found Mr. Potter waiting for us at the station. 
We drove to the Hotel du Nord, where we found Mrs. 
Potter and her two daughters, Looli and Maria. The 
next morning I went with Mr. Potter to see the apart- 
ment he had engaged for us. It was promised to us 
for the next day. On that day Mr. and Mrs. Potter 
left us, after we had engaged a cook and Mr. Potter 
had engaged a " valet de place," " Weber," who was to 
see us " settled." In the afternoon I went to see if all 
was ready in the apartment and found nothing ready, 
but all was to be ready the next morning. Thursday 
we went again, and found the landlord quietly smoking 
and his wife ironing a dress. I told them through Weber 
that I would give them until Friday morning to vacate 
the premises and leave all in order for us, and I should 
consider the contract between us broken if this was not 
complied with. After a long German conversation with 
them Weber told me this was quite satisfactory to the 
landlord, and we left. I confess I still believe that Weber 
told them that as I was " only a woman" they could 
continue to occupy the rooms until it was convenient for 
them to leave. On Friday morning we again found them 
eating a late breakfast, and no further preparations made 
for their tenants. I then told the smiling Weber I would 


go to a lawyer; he tried to induce me to go to a friend 
of his, but instead of taking his advice I went to our 
bankers, told my story, and one of the old and most 
trusted clerks in the bank went with me to a Mr. Simp- 
son, and stayed with me until I had told my sad story. 
Then Mr. Simpson sent for the would-be landlord and 
his wife (whose name was "Couchong"). They came 
and told a pitiful story of the difficulty of finding a home 
for themselves, and I then agreed to take the apartment 
if Mr. Simpson would on Saturday morning find it in 
readiness for us. On Saturday at noon he told me the 
rooms were not ready, but by paying one month's rent 
I could secure a release from the contract. This propo- 
sition roused my indignation. I told Mr. Simpson that 
my understanding of the case was that the landlord had 
broken his contract, and by obliging us to remain at a 
hotel had seriously inconvenienced us. I should therefore 
look for another apartment, and Mr. Couchong could go 
to law at once if he wished. Mr. Simpson's face was 
a study ; he was for the first time dealing with an Ameri- 
can woman determined to assert her rights, and after a 
whispered talk in German with the landlord and land- 
lady, he told me that they were very poor and asked 
me to give them a small sum, which I agreed to do only 
for the sake of charity. Thus ended my first experience 
in lodging-hunting. 

In a short time we were comfortably settled in an 
apartment and the girls all hard at work studying. We 
had secured a Hanoverian German lady as governess, 
but I felt uncertain about the wisdom of our choice, 
although she had come well recommended, when she 
requested to be called " Mademoiselle" and persisted in 


speaking to the children in French instead of German. 
She Hved with us, and one amusing incident connected 
with her comes back to me. I sat up late at night, and 
once about midnight was startled by the ringing of the 
door-bell ; I went to the door, but before opening it called 
out to know who was there. The answer came in Ger- 
man, and I went to Mademoiselle's room and asked her 
to come and help me. She said she must first " make 
her toilet," and when she came I saw the toilet consisted 
of a short gray skirt and a nightcap with fluted ruffles, 
standing out from her face like a halo. She questioned 
the men at the door and found they had a telegram for 
me. I said, " Then I must open the door." She assured 
me that in Berlin such a course was not possible, telling 
me they might be thieves. I told her I was not afraid, 
but while I was unbarring the door she said, with a 
trembling voice, " Alors je vais me proteger." I opened 
the door, the telegram was handed me, I paid the mes- 
senger (who was accompanied by a policeman), and there 
stood Mademoiselle with the seat of a chair pressed 
against her bosom and its four legs extended ready to 
do battle with the intruder. I laughed as I had not 
laughed since I left home. Shortly after I sent my 
own two girls to day school, hoping that with only two 
pupils Mademoiselle might be obliged to speak more in 
her native tongue, but in vain. She soon left us, and 
I found other and better teachers for the dear girls con- 
fided to my care, while my own girls plodded on at school. 
They learned quickly, hearing no word that was not in 
German. After a few months they came from school 
one day and told me that the Herr Professor in giving 
the class a geography lesson had described the United 


States as having no population beyond Cincinnati, all 
west of that city was an open prairie. Still, the school 
was admirable, and I have never regretted the time the 
children spent there. 

Meantime, our friends increased in number. First our 
own relative, a granddaughter of Theopholact Bache, of 
New York (who was the brother of my grandfather, 
Richard Bache), was then living in Berlin. Although 
I had scarcely ever seen this, my far-off cousin (Mrs. 
Schmidt) in my own country, nothing could exceed her 
kindness and the kindness of her children to us. One 
of her daughters was married to Baron Edward von 
der Heydt, the son of the Prussian Minister of Finance, 
and two of her daughters were married to German offi- 
cers of distinction. She had, besides, a niece, Alice Pat- 
terson, who was like her own child. Into the arms of 
these new-found relatives we all fell, and were closely 
held. Into our hearts they all crept, and there they all 
still live, some, alas ! only in memory. As I write they 
are all before me. My four girls and I owed many a 
happy time to them. Mr. Potter had taken a pew for us 
in the English Church. Services were held in a large 
room in the Mont Bijou Palace. The then Crown Prin- 
cess, daughter of Queen Victoria, now the Dowager 
Empress Frederick, was the wife of the much-loved 
prince (whom the people always called " Unser Fritz"). 
She belonged to the English Church. The pastor, Rev. 
Dr. Bellson, called upon us, and invited Looli and me 
to dine with them. We were soon much interested in 
the work of the chapel, though some of the customs 
during the service amused us much. The sexton was a 
woman, dressed in a dark dress and black velvet bonnet 


tied with very wide and long ribbon-strings of bright 
crimson. When Lady Augustus Loftus, the wife of the 
British minister, entered the chapel, always through the 
robing-room, she was followed by the sexton, who car- 
ried her ladyship's large Prayer-Book, placed it in front 
of her in the pew, and then retired. I confess to a pang 
of envy, being obliged to carry my own Prayer-Book 
and to enter by the ordinary door, but I found consolation 
in the thought that in the next world there will be no 
robing-room. The same sexton preceded Dr. Bellson 
when he went to the pulpit, opened the door, closed it 
after he had entered, and then retired. The crimson 
bonnet-strings seem now to have been a forewarning of 
the colored vestments we now see in some of our 

The music in the chapel was excellent. The daughter 
of Dr. Bellson was the organist and leader of the choir, 
which consisted of about twenty German boys, whom 
Miss Bellson drilled twice a week. They were poor and 
ragged, but knew how to use their voices. In order that 
they might present a respectable and uniform appearance 
their kind teacher made for them light-blue woollen 
blouses, which they put on over their own clothes, and 
they had also very large white collars. One of their 
weekly lessons was devoted to learning how to pro- 
nounce the English words which they were to sing, and 
the other to the music; the result being entirely satis- 
factory, helping instead of hindering the worshippers. 
I heard not long ago in a quartette choir in one of our 
churches a German with a good voice singing a solo 
thus in the Te Deum : " O Lord, shave thy people," 
instead of " O Lord, save thy people," and my thoughts 


went back to the chapel in Berhn, the choir and its- 

Meantime, I went blundering on with this foreign 
tongue. I had soon a large vocabulary, but the difficulty 
which most oppressed me was putting the words together, 
and I confess when I found all charming things (in- 
cluding the moon) were masculine, I lost hope and de- 
cided to drop genders altogether. I was punished for 
this when I asked of a citizen whom I met in the street, 
"Is that the king?" The man gave me an insolent 
answer, for which I did not blame him, for I had placed 
his king in the neuter gender ! 

The mistakes I made were many, but when I went 
shopping I always brought home what I wanted, though 
I confess I left the attendants in shops under the impres- 
sion that I was most ignorant. I saw once in a shop a 
very large fan hanging up which I wanted for a special 
purpose, but not knowing the German for " fan," I was 
in a dilemma until I saw before me a small wooden fan 
in a glass case, and pointing to it, I said, " Was ist das?" 
" Holtz," promptly replied the woman ; thus emboldened, 
I pointed to the large fan and said, " Ein grosser Holtz." 
Three young attendants in the shop retired beneath the 
counter to conceal their laughter. I laughed too, but 
carried ofif in triumph the fan I wanted. I once spent 
two hours learning a few sentences which I wanted to 
utter in a shop to which I was going for several ar- 
ticles. I learned my lesson, and my pronunciation was 
so perfect to my own ear that I sallied forth con- 
vinced I should be taken for a German frau. After I 
had transacted the whole of my business in German and 
handed the money to the young man who had waited 


upon me a glow of intense satisfaction filled me, for I 
felt my nationality had not been discovered. My joy was 
speedily turned to anguish, for when the young man 
returned and said in English, " Madam, you will become 
five silver groschen," I was so much irritated that I said 
as rapidly as possible, " I suppose I shall if I stay here 
long enough," and left the youth in entire ignorance of 
my last words. 

Our first experience at a dinner-party I must not for- 
get. Looli and I were invited to dine with our banker 
and his wife (Mr. and Mrs. Mendelssohn) at five o'clock. 
We found quite a large company assembled to meet us, 
and we were the honored guests. Our host took me to 
dinner, and on my right side sat a young Scotchman, 
who noticing that Mr. Mendelssohn always spoke to 
me in English, asked me how long I had been in Ger- 
many. I told him two months, and he told me he had 
only been in Berlin three months and already spoke the 
language fluently. I congratulated him on his ability, 
but a few minutes after saw him discomforted. Some 
asparagus was served, and Mr. Mendelssohn told me 
it had been " forced" at that season. I said, " Yes, I 
suppose under glass." " No," said our host; and turn- 
ing to the young Scotchman, said, " Was ist Dungen?" 
The Scotch youth answered, " I do not know," and when 
I suggested " manure," my host said, " That is the word 
I wanted." The poor youth apologized by saying he 
had never heard " manure" discussed at a dinner-table. 
But a greater trial awaited him yet. When we returned 
to the drawing-room Mr. Mendelssohn told me that it 
was customary for the guests to shake hands with the 
hostess. This I did with great pleasure, for I had en- 


joyed not only her kindness, but also was amused and 
interested with the many little changes I found between 
their customs and ours in serving the dinner. I saw the 
rest of the guests not only take the hand of the hostess, 
but many of them kissed it, and all said the same German 
sentence to her, which, not understanding, I turned to 
my young Scotch friend and asked him to translate for 
me. He told me with some hesitation that he believed 
they all said, " May your meal sit well." I thanked him, 
but was much amused when I learned afterwards that 
the words were " Gesegnete mahl zeit," which means 
" Blessed meal-time," and I thought that the trials which 
the youth had experienced had made that anything but 
a " blessed meal" to him. 

One of the guests at that dinner was Mrs. Auerbach, 
the wife of the novelist. She invited me to call to see 
her, which I promised to do. Our own trials began 
then, for we had ordered our carriage at eight o'clock, 
and at half-past six the guests began to retire to go to 
the opera. Determined not to be left behind, I told 
Looli we would go. We said " Good-night," put on our 
wraps, and descended to the lower hall (which was also 
the entrance to the bank), where we found the bank 
watchman, who kindly called a drosky for us, and thus 
we left for home. 



About this time Miss Bellson asked me to go with her 
to see Frail von Ranke, the wife of the great historian. 
She had heard that I had Irish blood in my veins, and 
being herself an Irishwoman and the sister of the Bishop 
of Limerick, she desired to see me. I was glad to gratify 
her, for I knew she was an invalid, but was shocked to 
find her lying on a sofa with no power of motion. She 
was paralyzed from her throat to her feet. She could 
turn her head from side to side, and that was all. She 
welcomed me cordially, told me she had one daughter 
married and two sons, one studying for the Lutheran 
Church, one in the army. She talked earnestly and well 
on matters of public interest, asking me many ques- 
tions about America, and when I rose to leave her, asked 
me to come to her on any or every Tuesday evening with 
my eldest girls, adding, " My friends are good enough to 
gather around me then, and we sometimes have good 
music." On the following Tuesday Miss Bellson, Looli, 
and I went, and found two rooms quite full of guests. 
Prince George was there, and many of the literary and 
scientific men of Berlin and their wives. We had some 
music from Englishwomen, and the whole scene was en- 
tertaining to us. Professor von Ranke came in late in 
the evening, and when he greeted me he said, " So you 
are an American." I said, " Yes," and felt like adding, 
" So you are the author of the ' Lives of the Popes,' " 
and thus began what was to me one of my greatest pleas- 


iires and privileges in Berlin. Mrs. von Ranke asked 
me to help her with a translation of a play written by 
Prince George. I had already told her I would be her 
scribe whenever she wished. I went to her every Mon- 
day evening at a quarter before seven and wrote for her 
for an hour. She expressed herself, in dictating to me, 
easily and well. She had the play in front of her on 
a very heavy cushion and turned over the leaves with a 
pencil, which she held between her teeth. While in this 
sad condition she had studied three languages (one of 
them Chinese). Her greatest pleasure lay in trans- 
lating (especially poetry) from the languages she had 
studied while bound hand and foot. So we went on 
with Prince George's play. When she wanted a leaf 
turned quickly she said, " W^ill you help me? You see, 
my dear, I am a very beggar." I had become so ac- 
customed to blank verse that I said, — 

A beggar thou ! I would extend my hand 
To thee both night and day 
If thou, into my soul, couldst only drop 
One atom of thy patience. 

Tears which I had to wipe away came into her eyes, 
but, alas ! although I can write with my own hand and 
wipe the tears from my own eyes, I fear I did not learn 
patience from this cheerful, uncomplaining sufferer. 
Shortly after this my friend, Mrs. John W. Field, sent 
me a book-rest for Mrs. von Ranke, with which she was 
delighted, for Mrs. Field only knew her as my friend. 
The supports rested on her couch and the rack itself was 
above her body. Her book did not rest upon her, and 
she found much comfort in the gift, and instead of 


murmuring because of her sad fate, she gave thanks that 
God had given her so many friends who bore Hfe's bur- 
dens for her. 

The professor I seldom saw, but if we were very much 
interested in our work on Monday evenings and I over 
stayed my hour, he would come from his library, candle 
in hand and in his dressing-gown, always humming the 
same air. On Tuesday evenings our refreshments con- 
sisted of tea and doughnuts, and when we arrived late we 
knew while climbing the stairway whether there were few 
or many guests, as in the latter case we were sure to meet 
one of the maids with a bread-basket in her hand going 
for a fresh supply of doughnuts. Simple indeed was her 
entertainment, yet there the nobility, the gifted and the 
educated men and women of Berlin gladly congregated. 

The number of our friends increased rapidly; the four 
girls were happy, and I more than contented and blessed 
in all I had the care of. The eldest was a pattern to 
the others. In prudence, consideration for others, 
patience, and perseverance she was unequalled, and with 
all these virtues, young and old found her a charming 
companion. Mr. Potter's friend, Professor Telcampf, 
was especially kind to us. He was a good English 
scholar, but his wife was not. We were invited there 
frequently, but lessons or teachers interfered. At last 
we were to go; Maria wanted to stay at home, but I 
insisted that she should accept the kindness of her father's 
friends. In agreeing to go she said to me, " I have one 
comfort : if I cannot understand what the children say 
I will look at you, for you never look bored." She little 
knew the fate in store for me. At the table Mrs. Tel- 
campf asked me whether I could play " Cattermang." 


Supposing this to be some game like " Copenhagen," I 
said I would try. What was my dismay when she pro- 
duced one of the works of Beethoven, " A Ouatre 
Mains." I seated myself beside her at the piano and 
got through an " Andante" quite creditably, but then 
I paused, my hands and feet cold with agitation, and 
Maria ready to burst with laughter. I asked to be ex- 
cused from further efforts at " Cattermang." 

Our two servants were German, of course, and I kept 
house through a phrase-book which I held behind my 
back when I gave my orders, in the vain hope that the 
women would think me a perfect scholar. We went 
sometimes to the theatre, and caught much of the lan- 
guage in that way. One night Sydney Biddle, the son 
of an American friend, had asked me to go see " Eg- 
mont," which I refused to do, as I was too tired to listen 
to a German play, but as the girls were all going to 
dancing-school (at the house of Madame de Grimm, a 
Russian lady whom I had met, and who offered to add 
my girls to her dancing class, and who in making the 
kind offer had added, " Have no fear ; inside my walls 
all your daughters are safe"), I determined to go with 
Sydney to the Schauspiel Haus, and leaving him to 
his " Egmont," amuse myself with a French play (" Les 
Inutiles") which was to be performed in a " Saal" or 
small hall of the building. For the first time I was 
alone, but a kind-looking woman next to me, after in- 
specting me closely, spoke to me in German. I stam- 
mered the answer in German, and then she said, " Ah, 
vous etes Frangaise." I told her I was not, and much 
puzzled she said, " D'ou venez vous alors." I told her 
" from America," and she shrieked aloud, " De 


rAmerique!" I felt as if every eye in that little theatre 
was turned upon me, and doubtless many retired to 
their homes thinking they had seen an Indian woman. 
When the play was over and I was leaving the house 
I was stopped by a policeman, and seeing a piece of cocoa 
matting spread on the pavement and a ro3^al carriage 
near, I paused readily, for the Crown Prince and Crown 
Princess had been in their box looking at " Les Inutiles." 
They came out, trod over the cocoa matting to their 
carriage, and I pursued my homeward way quietly. 

Looli and I went to several evening parties, where our 
pleasure was great. We had some friends among the 
young officers, one a young Englishman named Talbot, 
who belonged to the Crown Princess's Guard and wore 
a light-blue uniform. We had known him for several 
weeks, which seemed like years to me, and so kind had 
he been that we called him our " blue sky." He was a 
cheerful soul, and when I asked him why he had left 
his native land and his uncle, the Duke of Shrewsbury, 
he told me that finding little room in England, as it 
could not grow larger, and not being his uncle's heir, 
he had come to Germany. He was amused at my sur- 
prise that all young people at a party were presented to 
the elder ladies who were guests. The first large party 
we went to was a "dancing-party;" and there for the 
first time I saw each youth and maiden ask to be pre- 
sented to me, and apparently glad of the pleasure! I 
was astonished, for even then elderly people in America 
were de trop in an evening party of young people, 
and now I fear they seldom have the pleasure of renew- 
ing, or rather recalling, their youth by the sight of a 


We were entertained at the house of Mr. Freudenberg, 
the friend who had stood by me in my first difficulty in 
house-hunting, and I there met the clerk who had for 
forty years occupied the same desk with Mr. Freuden- 
berg in the Mendelssohn banking-house. Both our host 
and his friend were intelligent companions. Each 
brought his son to speak to me, telling me that the youths 
now occupied one desk at the Mendelssohn Bank. I con- 
gratulated the sons on the inherited integrity which had 
procured for them their positions, and expressed the hope 
that at the end of forty years they would both be found at 
their posts, ministering to the wants of eager Americans. 
Mr. Bancroft was then our minister in Berlin, and at 
his house Looli and I met many charming people. Mr. 
Georg von Bunsen, a member of the Prussian Parliament, 
was most kind to us, calling upon us, and sending us 
tickets of admission to the Parliament House. Mr. von 
Bunsen asked us to send our cards to him at the door 
when we should avail ourselves of his invitation. This 
we did, and were taken at once to his committee-room, 
where he met us and took us to the Diplomatic Gallery. 
The chairs in this and in the Royal Gallery were covered 
with velvet, but there ended all attempt at ornament. 
The building was perfectly simple. I felt pained at the 
contrast between the hall in which the Representatives 
met and our own House of Representatives. Here in 
the committee-rooms were long tables covered with green 
baize surrounded with benches, and holding plain white 
china inkstands, and no profusion of pens, ink, and paper. 
The " House" itself was a large hall, with galleries on 
three sides. The members sat on cane-seated benches, to 
the backs of which were attached pieces of board on 


which to rest books of reference. When these boards 
were not in use they were let down to the backs of the 
benches. No member wrote in his seat ; there were tables 
in the corners of the hall where they wrote, and there 
were neither spittoons nor frescoed ceilings. A hemp 
carpet covered the floor. The Speaker's desk was in 
the middle of the side of the wall, and opposite to it 
was a circular space in which sat the members of the 
Cabinet. When any question was being discussed, the 
minister to whose department the question related was 
present, answering all inquiries from members or speak- 
ing himself, being always accompanied by his counsel. 
The House was quiet and orderly, even a whisper being 
reproved by the ringing of a bell on the Speaker's desk. 
When will such simplicity and order reign in W'ashing- 

Our circle of friends was continually growing larger; 
there were two very pleasant additions to those we saw 
almost daily, and they were American young men abroad 
for study, — A. Sydney Biddle and S. Dana Horton. 
They were glad to come to an American home, and we 
were only too glad to welcome them, for they were clever, 
well informed, and, above all, gentlemen. Sydney in- 
vited Looli and me to go with him to the theatre to 
see " Antigone." I demurred, but finally agreed to go. 
I sat next to a youth, who was evidenly one of the great 
unwashed, and at first was most uncomfortable, but as 
the play went on, my neighbor and I became so absorbed 
in it that we were mingling our tears, and in wiping 
my eyes I, for once, forgot my nose. The younger girls 
looked forward to our first Christmas in a foreign land 
with trembling. Maria was sure she would be most 



miserable and entirely without gifts. Looli thought the 
joy of Christmas must come from ourselves, and she 
and I began to plan surprises for the others. We were 
inspired by the sights and sounds in the streets, which 
came from the populace while they were making ready 
for their glad and holy holiday. There is a large square 
there called the Schloss Platz. There are two churches, 
one theatre, and many buildings with their outlook on 
this open space. The architecture of these buildings is 
irregular. They seem to have been placed according 
to the sweet will of the builder, and the churches are 
not turning their backs on the theatre! This square was 
lined with Christmas-trees. There were booths there 
with every conceivable article on sale. The booths were 
occupied by people from the neighboring small towns. 
The sellers used every means to attract the attention 
of the passers to their wares, — a man played on an 
accordion while his wife beat time with a stick on a 
tin coffee-pot. The swans swam peacefully in the canal 
which runs through the Schloss Platz, now and then 
dipping their heads, as if thanking God for the joy 
of these people. It was a strange scene not easily to be 

After Christmas was over we all decided it had been a 
happy one. We hung our stockings, which were filled, 
as Maria said, " nearly as full as when papa filled them." 
We all dined with our cousins, who included A. Sydney 
Biddle in their invitation ; nothing could have been more 
pleasant for us all than this closing of our first foreign 

On New Year's eve Looli and I went at six o'clock to 
the " Dom" for the last service of the year in the old 


building. There was not one seat vacant when we en- 
tered, but as the service was short, we decided to stand. 
The choir, the finest I had then ever heard, was com- 
posed of one hundred boys and men. Just before the 
service closed they sang, without accompaniment, " Lord, 
now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace." That 
was all, and the peace thus asked for seemed to come 
to us all, for there was not a rustle or whisper in all that 
vast congregation. After a short silence we all left 
the building; first went the king and queen, then the 
rest of the royal family. 

We met at Mrs. von Ranke's house the governess of 
the children of the Crown Prince and Princess Frederick, 
and I heard some anecdotes of these their little people. 
The Princess Charlotte was sent with the daughters of 
Prince Frederick Carl to have their photographs taken. 
In grouping them the photographer spoke to one of them 
as " thou," when the child said, " I am called your Royal 
Highness." The poor photographer apologized and was 
full of confusion, which Princess Charlotte seeing, said, 
" My name is Charlotte, but my papa calls me ' Lottchen,' 
and that is the name I like best, but you can call me 
whatever you please." 

Prince Henry, the second son of Prince Frederick, 
refused so steadily to take his bath one morning that his 
governor was obliged to carry a complaint to his father, 
the then Crown Prince (afterwards Emperor). The 
prince ordered that the boy should be let alone, and was 
not surprised some hours after when the young prince 
came in great indignation to tell him that the sentinels 
had not saluted him. " No," said Crown Prince Fred- 
erick ; " they have been ordered to salute no one who 


refuses to be clean." Thus simply and wisely was that 
young family governed. 

About this time Mr. Bellson came to tell me that Lady 
Augustus Loftus would be glad to see Looli and me 
at her house. We went, and enjoyed many things in 
that home. They were thoroughly English and asked 
much about America, but I have no idea that they believed 
all we told them. The ignorance among the English then 
with regard to our country was amazing. One lady 
hearing we had " home-made bread," said, " I suppose 
you have no bakers' shops in America." " Yes," I said, 
" there is one in New York, one in San Francisco, and 
one half-way between, but it is rather far to send." The 
dear lady had no idea of our country geographically or 
otherwise, and left us to eat our home-made bread in 

My cousin, Baroness Edward von der Heydt, offered 
me a ticket to witness the ceremonies on " Ordensfest" 
day. The ceremony of bestowing the " orders" took 
place in a large hall in the old castle, after which all 
adjourned to the chapel, and divine service was held. 
Mrs. Schmidt and her daughter. Baroness von der Heydt, 
called for me. We drove to the Old Schloss, and after 
mounting one hundred and sixty-one steps reached the 
gallery of the chapel, where there were a small number 
of privileged spectators, the Dom choir, and a fine band 
of musicians. The floor of the chapel holds about one 
thousand persons; the walls are of marble, the ceiling 
frescoed, and the Sermon on the Mount printed in large 
letters. Every person who received an order came into 
the chapel for the service, and afterwards dined with 
the king. There were two lame policemen and many 


common soldiers who had each received an " order" and 
who were conducted to the seats assigned to them. The 
clergy wore their decorations outside their gowns, which 
I did not like, but I had not then seen the Sons of 
Colonial Wars. Eight ladies who had received the 
" Luisen Order" entered in full dress, trains, feathers, 
and flowers, and were placed in seats behind those re- 
served for royalty. Then came in alone a fine-looking 
woman in yellow silk dress with black lace flounces, the 
Countess Bismarck. She took her place on the third 
row of the royal seats. After a few moments her hus- 
band, Count Bismarck, entered, and I saw for the first 
time the great man who has since made Europe tremble, 
and whose wise policy has brought about the consolida- 
tion of what were the petty sovereignties of Germany, 
thus creating what is at this day a great empire. His 
seat was with the generals of the army, but he came 
first to his wife, shook hands with her, and I suppose 
received her congratulations on account of the new 
"order" he had just received; he wore a wide orange 
ribbon across his breast, which is the order of the Black 
Eagle, which had been conferred upon him before this 
day. His wife smoothed his eyebrows, and would doubt- 
less have rendered the same service to his hair, but he 
had none. When all were seated two chamberlains with 
huge clubs knocked on the floor, and the vast audience 
rose to their feet, and in walked twelve gentlemen-in- 
waiting. Then came the King, William, afterwards 
Emperor, and Queen Augusta arm in arm. The Queen 
wore white brocade silk with scarlet velvet bows down 
the front of the skirt, each bow having a solitaire dia- 
mond in the middle. Her train was of scarlet velvet 


and crowns of gold and black eagles embroidered thereon. 
White feathers in her head and diamonds completed her 
costume. Her train was carried by two pages in scarlet 
and white. When she reached her seat, two gentlemen 
took it and spread it on the floor in front of her. The 
King's seat was close to the pulpit, the Queen sat next. 
After them walked the Crown Prince and Princess. I 
had seen them both many times, but their faces as they 
looked then are with me now. His was a noble face 
and hers a most benevolent one. He wore his uniform 
and she a white dress with a train of cloth of gold em- 
broidered with pearls. Her train was carried and spread 
out before her. Then came Prince Frederick Carl and 
his wife, her train being light-blue velvet trimmed with 
ermine, and spread out before her also, so that in front 
of the preacher these trains formed a perfect carpet. 
Then followed the Princes, the Grand Dukes of Mecklen- 
burg, Hesse, etc., till all were in the chapel. The King 
then said his little prayer into his helmet, and all were 

Then followed the service. The singing was fine, and 
then the sermon. The preacher said not one word on 
the subject of the " pomps and vanities of this wicked 
world." When all was over the royal family left the 
chapel, and the rest followed in order. It was a spectacle 
not easily to be forgotten. I have seen but one which 
equalled it in splendor, but which exceeded in solemnity 
and in the number of persons taking part in it, and that 
was the open session of the " Ecumenical Council" in 
1869 in Rome. 

We had met Professor and Mrs. Lepsius several times, 
and they had been most earnest and cordial in their in- 


vitations for us to call upon them. Finally the pro- 
fessor reproached me for neglecting them, and I told 
him I had called in person when I first reached Berlin. 
He was profuse in his apologies, and told me he had not 
seen my card. The next morning his wife called upon 
us at nine o'clock to invite us to spend the following 
evening with them. We went and had delightful music, 
and in " honor of their new American friends" they 
sang the English chorus " We are all noddin','' and when 
I heard " The lats lofe lassies, and the lassies lofe lats 
do," I was delighted, but I had cause for rejoicing which 
has lasted to this hour, for I met there Dr. Pertz, the 
librarian of the Royal Library, who asked us to call upon 
his wife. This we did, and found her a charming Eng- 
lishwoman, the daughter of Leonard Horner, founder 
of the School of Art of Edinburgh, and niece of Francis 
Horner, the great political economist. Madame Pertz 
was most kind to us, and through her we formed a friend- 
ship for her two sisters, Susan and Joanna Horner. 
These ladies lived then in Florence, but came to spend 
Christmas with the Pertz family in Berlin. They are 
the authors of " Walks about Florence," which has been, 
and will be, the guide-book of many an American wan- 
derer in Florence. Never were there warmer friends 
or more delightful companions than these dear ladies 
proved to me and mine then, and now we are fast 

Through the kindness of Professor Telcampf tickets 
were sent to us for the " House of Lords" when Bis- 
marck was to speak. We went early, found our seats, 
and watched the vast assemblage take their seats. The 
same order and decorum that I saw in the House of 


Deputies was observed here. When Count Bismarck 
entered there was a flutter among the audience; he 
was in full uniform, and looked calm and majestic. He 
spoke on the subject of sending supplies to the King of 
Hanover, and his speech was greeted with " Bravos." 
My eyes never left the face of the speaker, for though I 
could understand but little of what he said, the earnest 
manner is with me still, and I am glad. 

The younger girls were invited to a dancing-class at 
Professor Lepsius's on Shrove-Tuesday. Four lads and 
four lassies formed a cotillon, while Mrs. Lepsius and 
I sat aside, she knitting all the time. She told me that 
her husband was preparing to go to a masquerade ball 
at the palace of the Crown Prince, and when I said, " I 
am afraid I am preventing your making your toilet," she 
said quietly, " No, I cannot go ; I have no rank ; my 
husband is invited on account of his learning." 

The lad who danced with my daughter asked her 
whether she did not feel strange in being in a house 
occupied by only one family, and when she told him 
that that was usual in America, he said, " I do not know 
how you find room enough." 

The King went once to the Annual Subscription Ball, 
driving as usual to the side entrance, but was stopped 
by the guard, saying, " None but royalty enter here." 
The King did not discover himself, but drove to the front 
door and entered with the other guests. When I heard 
this I remembered how I used to shiver when the " Ara- 
bian Nights" was read to us, and when Haroun al Raschid 
moved about among his people in disguise. I so feared 
he might be murdered. But I had no fears for King 
Wilhelm : his people loved him. Many were the ac- 


counts we heard of the king's bravery during the war 
with Austria. When the fire was hottest during the 
battle of Konigsgratz the King rode up, facing the enemy 
with tears running down his cheeks. The battle was 
won through the instrumentality and skill of the Crown 
Prince, and many of the wounded, when the battle was 
over, asked to be carried to where the King was, still 
on his horse, that they might once more look upon his 
dear face. This was told me by an Austrian officer, 
who also added that when told of this victory Louis 
Napoleon said, " The victory gained by the Prussian 
crown prince! We must look to it." 

An anecdote of Count Bismarck's son I here record. 
The boy was called upon at school for a speech, the 
master giving him as a topic " The man to whom Prussia 
was most deeply indebted." The day came, and mount- 
ing the rostrum, the boy in very flowing language de- 
scribed a man who had bound the Germans together 
with no common ties. The boys and teacher thought 
he was describing his own father until at the close, when 
the speaker announced that " the man" was Strousberg, 
the great railroad-builder. 

I had a severe attack of pain in my side, and sending 
for a doctor, he came, bringing with him a small ham- 
mer, a little piece of ivory, and a long black trumpet. 
First the doctor inquired as to the habits of my early 
life from my youth, then beginning to hammer and 
listen, he said, " Lungs, no, heart, no, liver, I sink 
yes," but later he suggested that the " muskells" were 
" strained !" I told him I had been reaching to the shelf 
of a very high wardrobe, when he asked, " Are you, 
then, in the habit of leaping?" 


The birthday of the King in that year falhng on Mon- 
day in Holy Week, he ordered it to be celebrated on 
the preceding Saturday. We were invited by the Baron- 
ess von Gablenz to go with her and her two sons, both 
army officers, to witness the review from the windows 
of the University. The day was fine and the streets 
already lined with people, although we reached at an 
early hour the windows assigned to our friends and 
us. The review was to take place on the " Unter den 
Linden," between the king's palace and the palace of 
the crown prince. The street was clean as possible, no 
vehicle being allowed to pass. The regiments to be re- 
viewed were cavalry regiments, but all on foot. After 
a very short interval there was a flourish of trumpets, 
and the King came from his palace ; then his body-guard, 
dressed in white with high black boots, moved forward 
with a fine brass band. They halted just in front of us, 
and then came the King, followed by the Crown Prince, 
the rest of the princes, several generals, and about four 
hundred officers. They walked past the University and 
took their stations on the opposite side of the wide street. 
The " garde du corps" then moved forward with their 
band, whose place was taken by the band of the first 
regiment to be reviewed, and so on until all had passed 
in review. The colonel of each regiment, while his men 
were passing, stood by the King, and when all was over 
the officers formed in a hollow square. The King walked 
by them, saying a few words to each and sometimes 
shaking hands. It was a glorious sight, uniforms, hel- 
mets, and arms, all reflecting the sunlight. Meanwhile, 
the carriages of the royal family drew up at the side 
door of the Crown Prince's palace, and the ladies got 


in and drove to the Old Schloss, where there was to be 
a breakfast. My eyes were damp when the King drove 
away in his barouche, for I knew I should never again 
see him celebrate a birthday, and I had learned to re- 
spect him and the Queen from all that I had heard of 
them. They visited in person all the charitable insti- 
tutions in Berlin. I respected them for this and for 
many things. I went home and hung out my American 
flag in honor of the day. 



On Sunday night in Holy Week I went to hear Bach's 
Passion music, given then as I have never since heard 
it. There were no brass instruments in the orchestra. 
Strings and wooden wind instruments made the accom- 
paniment sound hke a long wail, and the chorus " Cru- 
cify Him" rings in my ears still and brings with it the 
thought that we who profess to be His followers still 
" crucify Him" daily. On Good-Friday morning we 
awoke hearing boys singing hymns in the court-yard of 
our house. This was a custom then on all religious holi- 
days, and I hope it still remains. The boys sang well, and 
then sent their little printed hymns into the houses and 
were rewarded with small coins. 

The congregation in the English chapel was increased 
by the presence of the Crown Princess. She entered 
through the robing-room, as did the wife of the British 
ambassador, but the door was opened on both sides for 
the Crown Princess to enter, and only one-half of it for 
Lady Augustus Loftus, so nice were these distinctions ! 
On the evening of Good-Friday I went again to hear fine 
music, " The Death of Jesus," by Bach. The singers 
and instrumental performers were (as on Monday) all 
in black. There was no applause, the quiet of the hall 
being only broken by the weeping of the audience. An 
old lady sat beside me with white hair and without a 
tooth. Seeing that I was much moved, she laid her 
hand upon me and looked at me with an expression I 


can never forget. Her face was full of wrinkles, and 
tears poured down her cheeks, yet with the grief there 
was a triumphant look; grief for the sacrifice, and 
triumph because of the pardon and peace it brought to 
the world. 

Our Easter was spent quietly, though the city was 
astir from early dawn. The sun shone brightly and 
crowds were in the streets going to their " early service." 
We had no early service, and went as usual at eleven 
o'clock. The choir-boys sang well, and there were no 
ritualistic ceremonies observed. We hope that the in- 
cense of prayer from that small but devout congregation 
reached heaven. 

On Sunday we dined always in the middle of the day, 
and during dinner Baron Carl von Gablenz came quietly 
into the house, bringing with him a large basket. I 
had previously been let into the secret of this visit. He 
had asked permission to hide Easter eggs in our little 
drawing-room. The girls knew nothing of the plan. 
After dinner was over Baron von Gablenz was an- 
nounced, and the children were told to " seek for eggs." 
This they did gladly, and found, concealed in boxes, 
baskets, curtains, and under the furniture, " real dyed 
eggs" and eggs made of chocolate and candy. This was 
an old German custom, only that with the Germans the 
eggs are sought for at early dawn. 

The few days after Easter-Sunday which were holi- 
days were passed in the galleries of the Museum. We 
had spent previously many a Saturday morning there, 
and it was curious to watch the different opinions ex- 
pressed by the children on what we saw. Most of the 
works of art were there in plaster (which we saw after- 


wards in marble in Italy). Our guide and companion 
was S. Dana Horton, and so admirable a guide was he 
that the sculptured figures I saw afterwards in Italy 
seemed like old friends, so thoroughly did I know their 
histories. I went often alone to the picture-galleries, 
and when I reached the pictures of the fourteenth century 
I found I had made the acquaintance of twenty Ma- 
donnas, not one of which I would have cared to own. 
We all went together to the galleries on Saturdays, and 
one day I stood looking at a picture of Adam and Eve 
thinking of the grievous wTong they had done us, when 
a well-dressed middle-aged woman came up and winked 
first at the picture and then at me, so I winked at her 
and then at the picture, and she began a long tirade 
in German about our " first parents," I understanding 
scarcely a word; so I told her very gently I was an 
American and did not understand. She then asked me 
where I lived and whether it was near Michigan, then 
added that she had a nephew living in Michigan who 
had been away from Germany for nineteen years and 
had amassed a large furtune in salt and was coming 
home. She parted from me with evident regret because 
1 was an American and thus nearly allied to her nephew. 
About this time I felt that a change of air would be 
of service, and after consultation with a physician (whose 
hearing was so acute that he wore cotton in his ears 
except when examining our hearts or lungs) I was ad- 
vised to take two of my young charges to Soden, near 
Frankfort-on-the-Main, where they were to drink the 
waters. I was very sorry for this change, and at first 
meant to take all of the family, but " second thought" 
induced me to leave the two younger girls in the care 


of Mrs. von Holtzendorff, that they might not have a 
break in their studies for a whole month. My courage 
nearly left me when I saw the two little girls leave 
the railroad platform as our train moved off, and as 
there was but little to interest us in the first part of 
the journey my thoughts were much with them. We 
passed through many a village, and at three p.m. reached 
Frankfort. We went at once to the Hotel de Prussie, 
and were shown to our rooms by two waiters each carry- 
ing two long lighted candles. They were followed by 
a man with the hotel register, and I saw above our 
names — 

Name. Occupation. Residence. 

J. B. Smith. Tourist. America. 

I instantly began to envy the Smith who could claim 
this Smith, and thought I would be proud to meet a man 
with a world-wide name, a world-wide profession, and 
a home. 

We went the next morning to church and to look 
at the city, and on Monday continued our journey to 
Soden. We were taken by train to Hochst, and we 
were told would find there coaches to carry us to So- 
den. When we reached Hochst we found that there 
were no coaches, but that all the horses were in the fields 
ploughing, as the " season" at Soden had not begun. 
We bribed a man to bring a horse from the plough, and 
we drove a few miles and reached Soden, It was a 
lovely spot at the foot of the Taunus Mountains. We 
spent six weeks at Soden drinking the waters, and re- 
turned early in May to Berlin. The " girls I had left 
behind me" had joined us a fortnight before, and our 


happiness was complete. We left Soden at Whitsuntide 
and spent Sunday in Mayence, and met at Caste! by 
accident our friend Talbot, whom we called our " blue 
sky" when we first met him in Berlin. We told him we 
were to leave Mayence the next morning and go down 
the Rhine by boat. He came to the boat to see us, and 
told me he had seen the American officer, General Mc- 
Cook, the night before, who told him that war was 
imminent between England and America on the " Ala- 
bama" question, and added, " I may be obliged to leave 
Germany and go home to protect our coast, though," 
he added, " I presume you will annex us, and the first 
thing I shall hear from you will be a proposition to 
extend to me the hospitalities of London." 

I will not dwell on our journey down the Rhine, be- 
cause many an abler pen than mine has described that 
beautiful river, and also because the study which has 
given most interest to my life has been the study of 
human nature. All the natural scenery I have had the 
pleasure to see has not stirred my heart one-half as much 
as my kind. I enjoyed much that I saw in Cologne, 
but the people on their knees in the Cathedral moved 
me more than the beautiful architecture of the building, 
and the sight of a poor woman with patched clothes 
saying her prayers on the cold stones, while her baby 
child took the mother's face between her little hands and 
kissed it, brought tears to my eyes, while the four stone 
women kneeling behind our Lord failed utterly to move 
me; but perhaps my stoicism came from the fact that 
their hands were adorned with wreaths of blue paper 
roses, faded and dirty ! The beadle in the Cathedral was 
most kind to us and urged us to return to the afternoon 


service. This we did, and found the pulpit occupied 
by a priest. The congregation was small, and consisted 
chiefly of women. The priest impressed upon them the 
duty of entire submission to the will of their husbands. 
When he left the pulpit our friend the beadle, in a scarlet 
robe, escorted him to the sacristy, and then brought 
another priest, who mounted the steps of the pulpit. I 
was very tired and sat still in the pew Nelly and I were 
in. I had chosen this pew because it was cushioned 
and had a door. The second sermon had scarcely begun 
when the beadle marched down the aisle with the first 
preacher behind him. They paused in front of the pew 
where we sat, and the beadle touching me with his staff 
told me to leave the pew, it " belonged to the priests, 
and no woman could ever sit there." I left it instantly, 
and the terror I had prevented for a few moments my 
finding a pew zvithout a cushion. When the second 
sermon was ended the whole congregation came forward 
and knelt around the Virgin's altar. The twilight was 
just fading; men and boys had come in from their day's 
work, and then began a most delightful anthem, in which 
the whole congregation joined. The stone figures in 
blue wreaths were lost in obscurity, and this crowd of 
the poor asked most devoutly that the Holy Virgin would 
protect them through the night. 

I left Cologne with regret, remembering well the words 
of a young friend who, after visiting Munich and Nurem- 
berg, said, " After seeing the wonders in those two cities, 
the thought that I must return to Philadelphia with only 
the Academy of Natural Sciences makes me shudder." 
Many things have been added to us in Philadelphia since 
the year of our Lord 1868 for which we are profoundly 



grateful, not forgetting that pioneer, " The Academy of 
Natural Sciences." 

We left Cologne by railroad on the morning of May 
23 and reached Berlin in the evening of the same day. 
I bought our tickets and saw to our baggage being 
weighed and marked, all in my admirable German, and 
when we reached the train I asked for a " damen coupe." 
The guard took us to one already occupied by three pas- 
sengers. I entreated the guard to open another car- 
riage, but he was inexorable, and we five entered much 
annoyed, and the three already there scarcely less so. 
The first of our fellow-passengers who attracted my 
attention was a pretty young girl who was bidding 
" Good-by" to an elderly gentleman, apparently her 
father. He laughed heartily at our annoyance, and when 
he left said to her, " You will find those English not 
pleasant travelling companions." This annoyed me, and 
I determined that before the day was over the " pretty 
girl" should find that we were not English, and that 
we were " charming." I began first to conciliate the 
fat lady, who had the most comfortable seat in the car- 
riage and who had been unpleasant about our bags and 
bundles. I asked her if she were tired, and she said, 
" Yes, I left Paris last evening." I then performed an 
act of civility towards the " pretty girl," and felt I was 
on the road to making her our friend ; the third poor soul 
I looked at and concluded she was the maid of the " fat 
lady." But I was soon undeceived ; I found she was 
a Pole, knowing no language but her own, and placed 
under the care of the fat lady at the Paris Station. After 
I had gathered all that I could concerning her own his- 
tory, I let the fat lady alone and she fell asleep. She 


was a German, married to a Frenchman. The " pretty- 
girl" joined in our conversation, and before we reached 
Hamm, her destination, she thanked me for my kindness 
and said she wished her father had known when he left 
her how well she would be cared for by our party. I 
told her to tell him with my compliments that she had 
not found the English very " troublesome," at which she 
laughed heartily, and said she wished we would all come 
back to Cologne and see something of society, being 
sure we would enjoy it, but as she gave us no address 
how could we enter society there except through the 
Scarlet Beadle? After the pretty girl left us the fat 
lady said she would like to dine with us at the dining 
station. This she did apparently with good appetite, 
and after she had dined she threw up her hands and 
eyes and said, " Oh, ma belle France, when shall I see 
thee again?" In the afternoon she produced a roasted 
chicken, and after eating the whole of it except the thigh 
and backbone, she wrapped these remains in a paper and 
handed them to the poor Pole. After a few minutes 
she told me she was sure she would be too much over- 
come at seeing her daughter when she arrived in Berlin 
to make it possible for her to see to the safe conduct of 
the Pole to the Warsaw Station, and then asked me to 
do this. I agreed, and my daughter offered to help me. 
The poor Pole was drowned in tears when informed of 
this change, fearing, with her slender knowledge of 
French, that she was about to be cast on the wide world 
alone. I convinced her finally through reassuring nods 
that she would not be deserted, and after tranquillity had 
been restored the fat lady asked the Pole (in French) 
why she had gone to Paris. To this question the Pole 


made no answer, and the lady asked me why she had 
gone, but finding me unable to solve the question, she 
said, " Sans doute pour faire les conquetes." She then 
asked the Pole whether she liked the Emperor of Russia. 
This question was answered by a succession of growls 
and grimaces, the meaning of which was unmistakable, 
and I felt that if growls and grimaces could destroy the 
government, the Emperor of Russia would have been 
that day hurled from his throne. It was a cruel question 
to ask, but we again endeavored to cheer the Pole and 
succeeded. When we reached Berlin my daughter and 
I took care of the poor soul, but not before the fat lady 
had called my attention to her daughter, saying, " N'est 
pas qu'elle est belle." We looked for the coach which 
was to carry passengers to the station for Warsaw, and 
my daughter made an earnest appeal to the guard of the 
coach to take good care of the poor Pole. Never shall 
I forget that moment. The guard lifted his lantern to 
look at my child's face, heard her honest appeal to the 
end, and then with a broad smile on his honest German 
face, said, " I will do as you desire, Fraulein, with pleas- 
ure." We bid the Pole farewell, she giving my arm a 
wreath of kisses reaching from my shoulder to my hand, 
while I thanked God that my child had thus early learned 
to feel for the sorrows of others. 

We all felt at home again in Berlin and began anew 
a life of study and recreation. I found Mrs. von Ranke 
still patient, still motionless, but delighted with the book- 
rack, the gift of my friend, Mrs. John Field. She told 
me that one of the royal family had said the gift was 
" like a hand-shake between America and Prussia." As 
my two young charges were to leave for America in the 


autumn we began shortly after to make preparations for 
this change. Supplies of linen were to be bought, and 
we went again to the shop where we had essayed to speak 
German and the shopman had answered us with effort in 
English. We found him affable as before, and although 
we told him in German we wanted to look at towels, he 
brought out some and said, " I have found it very diffi- 
cult to become such a towel as this." We agreed with 
him, and then asked for some other articles, which he 
was obliged to look for at a distant part of the store; 
he bowed low and said, " Execute me in an instant." 
My companion, Looli, bought twelve dozen children's 
napkins, and the young man said, " Have you, then, so 
many young sisters and brothers?" 

Soon the time came when we were saying " Good-by" 
to our dear relatives and friends. They all bid us fare- 
well with regret, and Mrs. Bancroft urged me to return 
in time to help her entertain Mr. and Mrs. Eurlingame 
and the Chinese members of the Commission from China. 

Our first stopping-place was Dresden, where we spent 
our days principally in the galleries, and where I saw 
for the first time the Madonna which to me is the finest 
in the world, — the only one I ever saw with an expression 
of intelligence and consequently with beauty. But I 
am not writing a book on art criticism, nor yet a guide- 
book. I therefore hurry my reader to Nuremberg, where 
we spent twenty-four hours. The girls were delighted 
with the sight of the font in one of the churches from 
which King Wenzel was baptized in 136 1. I was sur- 
prised at their enthusiasm until I found they had just 
made the acquaintance of this king in their German 
history. The graveyard delighted me because there were 


fresh flowers on Albrecht Diirer's grave, and he Hved 
three hundred years ago, and with us the memory of 
our great men often survives only as many days. The 
chapel of the Holzschuher family interested me much. 
They began life many hundred years ago in the manu- 
facture of wooden shoes, and far from covering up 
their antecedents (as we do, I grieve to say), on each 
vault is carved a wooden shoe. I felt glad when I 
saw this, and if I ever ask for a gravestone, it will be 
with a caldron of soap upon it stirred with a lightning- 

Of course we visited the Torture Chambers. The only 
instrument of which I cordially approved were wooden 
churns with holes in the top large enough to admit the 
head of a human being. Into these drunken people were 
placed and their heads exposed in the public streets. I 
confess this method of curing this miserable and de- 
grading vice recommended itself to me more than either 
the " pledge" or the " Keeley cure." 

Our next step was to Munich, wdiere we spent so much 
time in the galleries that I felt as if my joints were 
unhooked, but I could not bear to hurry the children, 
who were enthusiastic over the portraits of the kings, 
from Charlemagne down to Charles XII., and when I 
proposed leaving the gallery, Becky called out, " Do not 
go now; here are all the old fellows we have just been 
studying about." We passed through many interesting 
places without many adventures. In Salzburg I broke 
the lock of my trunk, and when it was returned and I 
gave the youth who brought it a few kreutzers, he in- 
stantly fell on his knees and kissed my hand several 
times; the chambermaid opened the door during this 


ceremony, and was so surprised at seeing a youth at my 
feet that she beat a hasty retreat. 

At last we reached Paris, and I would have been glad 
to leave it in twenty-four hours. Carlyle's " French 
Revolution" and Dickens's " Tale of Two Cities" came 
back to me at every turn. I had no friends then in Paris ; 
I saw only the guides in the public buildings and the 
shopkeepers; these last were fascinating when they ef- 
fected a sale, but excessively rude when they did not. 
At first they complimented me upon my charming French 
accent, and being thus flattered I bought several articles 
I did not want and had to go without many things I 
needed. On declining to buy some pocket-handkerchiefs 
the shopkeeper said, " Madame, vous demandez trop pour 
votre argent vous etes du canaille." At the street corner, 
near the hotel there was a woman who assaulted me 
every day with bunches of toothpicks. I declined them 
many times gratefully and as I thought gracefully; at 
last I said " Non," and she roared into my ear, " Diable!" 
The people then, in the year of our Lord 1868, had not 
a look of freedom from care; the city itself seemed to 
me empty of all solid and real pleasure. Painted women, 
and men with their moustaches gummed into sharp points, 
met us at every turn. I did my best to reform one evil, 
and that was putting infants away to nurse. A little 
woman who was making some lingerie for one of my 
girls told me that she had a lovely baby, and when I 
asked to see it, she told me she had placed it with a 
nurse four leagues from Paris. I remonstrated vainly 
with her. She assured me she was doing her very best 
for the little one. Her husband was engaged in the 
manufacture of busts, and she attended her shop for the 


purpose of giving their child an education which would 
enable it to rise in the world. When I assured her the 
best education a little child could have was beside its 
mother I argued vainly; she only shrugged her shoul- 
ders, and I left her. I was then in much anxiety, for 
my daughter had been ailing for many days, and at the 
end of a week the doctor sent us from Paris to Versailles, 
She grew more and more ill, and finally her malady 
developed into typhoid fever. I cannot bear to dwell on 
the six weeks which followed, but I should do a great 
injustice to the doctors and nurses who cared for her 
if I did not say that I never saw a case more skilfully 
managed. The nurses came from the Roman Catholic 
order called " The Sisters of Hope." At first they took 
their service in turn, but the Sister Angelique was finally 
left in charge of the case, through my entreaty with the 
Mother Superior, who stipulated that as her vow obliged 
her to see that the Sisters should attend a daily early 
mass, and should each have five hours' sleep in the twenty- 
four, she would leave the Sister with the child if I would 
see that she went to mass. This she did daily at six 
A.M. On her return she had her breakfast, attended to 
the little patient, and went to the convent at nine, where 
she slept. In the afternoon she returned to us. The 
doctors were most skilful; the attending physician lived 
in Versailles, the consulting physician was the head of 
the Typhoid Hospital in Paris. For some time nourish- 
ment in liquid form was given to the child every fifteen 
minutes, her mouth being previously w^ashed with lemon- 
juice and water. I was exhausted with the two weeks' 
watching before I had the nurse, but I had sufficient life 
left to watch her movements with pleasure. She was one 


of the most beautiful women I ever saw. She never 
forgot anything that would give her charge comfort, 
and when not otherwise occupied she knelt on the floor 
beside a sheet doubled in four and through a fine cloth 
sifted starch, rubbing it into the sheet until the surface 
was like satin; this was placed under the child to pre- 
vent, if possible, what the physicians much dreaded, the 
breaking of the skin by the bones. But I forbear. Only 
the joys of my life should be chronicled here, but the alle- 
viations I have spoken of above have been tried with suc- 
cess by some of my friends in like cases, and that fact 
must plead my excuse. After many weeks the conva- 
lescent period began; the child then slept much and the 
" Soeur Angelique" began to occupy herself in the even- 
ing making flowers for the decoration of the altar in 
the convent chapel, of which she was sacristan, for a 
fete-day which was near at hand. She told me that " La 
Petite," my child, had taken so much of her time that 
she feared she should not be able to finish her work 
entirely. I offered to help her, but with an almost im- 
perceptible shudder she said, " Non, madame, je vous 
remercie." The next evening she said, " If it will amuse 
madame she may help me." By this time my spirits were 
returning, and I told her I knew she had asked her 
priest whether the flowers would be injured by being 
touched by Protestant hands; she was much surprised 
that " madame" should have guessed so correctly, and 
confessed that she had done so, and the father told her 
" no." So we sat together, talked and worked. I con- 
fess I was surprised at her ignorance, but I loved her 
dearly. She did not know that any Protestants believed 
in God, and when she found that the Holy Trinity was 


as dear to me as to her she was overcome. One evening 
she lit two candles nearly two feet high for us to work 
by and said, " Look there, madame, those candles are 
like my Church, they light above." I said, *' I agree, 
but the Church like the candles leave the world dark 
enough." Instead of being offended she told me I was 
very droll. In all those weeks I had heard no word 
of English except from my young niece, who was ban- 
ished from the rooms occupied by the patient and whom 
I saw only rarely. 

We parted with " Soeur Angelique" with sorrow. I 
wanted to make her a present, but she assured me her 
vows prevented her accepting anything for herself. Her 
work was for Christ's Church. The next year I went 
to Rome, and there got for her a little crucifix in silver, 
which I took to Pope Pius IX. and had blessed. Sydney 
Biddle took it to Versailles, and gave it to her for the 
altar of her chapel, and she was happy. Never did I see 
any human being more free from guile than this woman ; 
her life devoted to the service of God and His creatures, 
and when I parted from her I said, " Of such is the king- 
dom of heaven." 

Before we left Versailles we saw in the grounds and 
in the galleries much that interests all strangers, but while 
Marie Antoinette and her life was of more interest to 
me, I found guards and guides absorbed with the Napo- 
leonic dynasties. I was indignant with this, and when 
one of the guard pointed out a large oil-painting of the 
French army entering Mexico, I asked him wickedly 
whether there was any painting of the French army 
leaving Mexico. But it was not French guards and 
guides who were extolling the Bonapartes ; an American 


lady told me that the Empress Eugenie had petitioned 
the Pope to have " Madame Ehzabeth" canonized, and 
added, " Was that not graceful?" " She had better not 
be awkward in these days," I answered, little dreaming 
then that the most awkward days were close to the foot- 
steps of Louis Napoleon and his wife. 

We left Versailles and returned to Paris for a short 
time before leaving for Berlin, where we were to pass 
a second winter. I found my little maker of lingerie 
in her shop, but in deep mourning; the moment she saw 
me she threw herself on my shoulder and burst into tears, 
telling me that her baby was dead, and that on the night 
it had died she had said to her husband, " If we had taken 
the advice of that American lady we would not have this 
sorrow, but we will amend." Two years after, a friend 
of mine went to employ her, and after telling her who 
had sent her, the little woman took her to a corner where 
hung a little hammock in which a chubby baby lay sleep- 
ing and said, " Look at that ; my husband and I are 
happier and more grateful every day." 

We came into Paris hurriedly and went to a hotel which 
had been strongly recommended to me, but finding it 
very expensive, I decided to leave it. The next day I 
found other and more quiet quarters, but as the waiter 
had lighted tw^elve candles in our rooms when we arrived, 
all of which we had to pay for, I decided to take them 
with me. I put them in my travelling-bag, which I 
carried down-stairs myself, as the porter and a servant 
had the other " light luggage," and Nelly's feeble steps 
to look after. In the middle of our passage down-stairs 
my bag flew open and out rolled the candles, rattling 
down-stairs in front of me. All stopped short, no one 


attempting to pick them up. I did this myself, shut 
the bag, and the procession moved on, I wishing I had 
never seen a candle. , 

We saw many of the sights in Paris, some beautiful, 
others horrible, and to me it is still the city in the world 
where extremes meet. I was told there was a place in 
Paris where spoiled meat was sold to the poor, and that 
close to this market sat men and women who for a centime 
cooked the meat over charcoal furnaces while the pur- 
chaser waited for it. I had been watching the gay car- 
riages in the streets for some time, and then took a fiacre 
and drove to the market above described. There it was 
in all its horror before my eyes, and, alas! before my 
nose. I left in profound pity and disgust. I saw the 
Foundling Asylum, and my heart ached for the babies 
lying in rows like soldiers waiting for action when 
I thought of the battle of life which was before those 
who outlived their infancy; but I confess a foundling 
asylum like that one in Paris appeals much more strongly 
to me than the " baby farming" in our own country, or 
the bundle deposited on the vacant lots or door steps. 
If each American woman, whose path in life is easy, 
would undertake to see that some one unfortunate woman 
and child are kept together, baby farms would disappear, 
and one terrible form of vice would die out. " I speak 
that I do know." The best and safest road for a woman's 
life is through her children. It is the strongest tie on 
earth. American women, what say ye? 



I LEFT Paris without a pang, glad indeed to shake its 
dust from my feet, and returned to BerHn, but not to 
housekeeping. Louisa and Maria had sailed for America 
and left us sadly missing them. We three who were left 
went into a pension kept by Frau von Holzendorff. She 
was a gentlewoman in every sense of the word. Well- 
read, a charming companion, and one with whom sor- 
row had sat from the beginning of her life. We were 
then the only members of her winter household except 
a young man from New York, who came daily to our 
parlor for advice ! I gave all that he asked, for he was 
alone and often in a dilemma. Dr. Richard Derby from 
New York was to arrive in a few days, also S. Dana 
Horton from Ohio, and A. Sydney Biddle from my own 
State, who was then in a small village on the Rhine 
assisting in the vintage. All the villagers turn out on 
these occasions, and are allowed to be as jolly as they 
please. They may shout, sing, and fire pistols day and 
night; from the description A. Sydney Biddle gave us, 
it must be a long drawn out "Fourth of July." He 
at the close of the vintage gave a party, inviting those 
of the villagers whose acquaintance he had made. The 
party began at seven in the evening and lasted all night. 
Young and old all danced to the music of ten wind instru- 
ments ! The young maidens of the village made for him 
a huge garland, which they insisted on hanging about 
his neck, and at four in the morning he escorted the wife 


of the clergyman of the village and her daughter to their 
home. And so the vintage ended. 

Here I must record an experience of the young New 
York member of our household. He went to the Berlin 
University to be matriculated, and having been told that 
he would enter more satisfactorily if he had come from 
some college in America, and as he had been a pupil in 
Bryant & Stratton's Commercial College, when, there- 
fore, the professors asked him at what college he had been 
educated he announced the name ; a murmur of astonish- 
ment was all he heard, and he was asked to write the 
name, and that produced nothing but an assurance 
that Bryant and Stratton had never been heard of; and 
when, desiring to reassure the professors, he mentioned 
that he came from New York, that fact, to his great sur- 
prise, produced no impression, though he thought it an 
" open sesame" everywhere. He told me with a sigh 
that although he was admitted to the college, he feared 
he was " eyed with suspicion." 

My cousins were loving and faithful to us all. I saw 
them constantly, and many of our simple pleasures came 
through them. My life was quiet; I often spent many 
hours working and hearing no sound but the ticking of 
the clock. We sorely missed the two dear girls who had 
left us. My child had lost so much of her hair that 
the hair-dresser of the Crown Princess urged her head 
being shaved. This was done, and she wore little close- 
fitting caps which I made for her. The boys in the streets 
saluted her with, " Thou art out in the street with thy 
nightcap on!" Rude boys they were, but I must confess 
all the Germans are not polite. 

I found my new plated tea-kettle without its lamp one 


day, and on inquiring as to it, the maid told me she had 
forgotten to return it ; she was going to a party the night 
before and her hair-dresser asked for a spirit lamp to 
crimp her hair, and she had taken my tea-kettle lamp. 

We went on one Sunday morning to the Dom Church 
to a solemn service appointed for the Brandenburg Synod. 
Mr. Horton had seats for us, and altliough the church 
was crowded we were comfortably placed, and there was 
no shoving or pushing to the front. The old clergy took 
the seats appointed for them, looking very imposing. 
The King was there and members of the Royal Family. 
I was most interested in the administration of the Holy 
Communion. It was the most quiet, the most solemn 
celebration I had ever seen. The members of the Synod 
entered the chancel by a gate at the right side of the 
altar. Four knelt at a time, receiving the bread, then 
rising they passed to the left side of the altar and received 
the wine-cup. Not one of them touched with their hands 
either bread or wine-cup. The choir sang in low tones 
verses from Scripture; in the pauses the voices of the 
administering clergy were heard. There was no sound 
from the congregation to mar the solemnity of the ser- 
vice, and I felt glad that the recipients had the opportunity 
to commune with their God without distraction. 

Shortly after I went again to the Dom to witness the 
ordination of Otto von Ranke, the son of Mrs. von Ranke, 
and at her request. She told me his father would be 
there, but his sister was away from home, and she wanted 
some one to go who would tell her all about it. I did 
this with pleasure, and after I had described everything 
to her she said, " When anything like this happens in 
my family I feel restive, and then I try to think, * I am 


a prisoner of the Lord.' " Many of mankind feel that 
they are prisoners in some sense, but most of us kick 
against the pricks, while she, bound hand and foot, taught 
us a lesson in patience. 

About this time Mr. Anson P. Burlingame arrived in 
Berlin with the Chinese embassy, he having been ap- 
pointed by the government of China the head of the 
embassy, which came with power to negotiate treaties 
commercial and otherwise. I was invited to dine with 
Mr. and Mrs. Burlingame by Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft. 
I accepted the invitation, and was delighted with Mr. 
Burlingame and his wife, on whom I called the next day. 
A few days after I went again to their quarters at the 
Hotel de Rom to see the embassy depart for the palace, 
where they were presented to the King. I took the chil- 
dren with me. The King's chamberlain came for them, 
and with him came three crimson court carriages. Each 
carriage had two footmen in cocked hats, powdered wigs, 
knee-breeches, long silk stockings, and pumps! Their 
coats were covered with Prussian eagles. The weather 
was bitterly cold, and when I began to pity the shivering 
legs of the footmen a German lady advised me not to 
waste my sympathy, as there were woollen stockings 
underneath their silk ones. The carriages of the nobility 
flew past the hotel, the inmates anxious to reach the 
castle before the embassy should arrive. Finally the 
chamberlain ordered the carriages to draw up. Mr. Bur- 
lingame got in first, then the Chinese first in rank, then 
the interpreter (a Frenchman), and lastly the chamber- 
lain. Other members of the embassy followed, and all 
was over. I felt, I confess, proud that an American 
should hold the first rank in this procession, and that 


a young nation should assist in making two old nations 
better known to each other. The next day the embassy 
dined with the king. The tables were laid with eighty 
covers. Mrs. Burlingame went, and I heard she looked 
lovely. She was much admired, and had a repose of 
manner most unusual with the American women, espe- 
cially with those travelling in foreign lands. 

The next entertainment given for the strangers was 
an evening reception by Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft, to which 
I went and was delighted. The rooms were full of 
Germans and Americans, and the gorgeous costumes 
of the Chinese were something to be remembered. Mr. 
Bancroft was very jolly and the mandarins in high spirits. 
Mr. Bancroft introduced each guest to the members of 
the embassy with a little biographical preface. Professor 
Telcampf was a " member of the House of Lords." Dr. 
Auerbach " the rising star in German literature." Colo- 
nel von Steinecke "the king's right-hand man." My 
cousin, the Baroness von der Heydt, " the daughter of 
the great Prussian financier." When my turn came he 
said, " This is the granddaughter of the man who stood 
side by side with Washington in the struggle for Ameri- 
can independence, the man who was one of the greatest 
philosophers the world ever knew, the Confucius of 
America." This brought down the topknots of the 
mandarins. Their clothes were gorgeous, and one of 
the interpreters spoke English fluently and well, talked 
of Carlyle, Frederick the Great, and Motley as if he were 
one of us. His name was Fung Yee. I found him a 
most remarkable man. He came constantly to see us 
and was very jolly. At a ball given by Lord Loftus, the 
English ambassador, he asked the Rev. Dr. Bellson which 



was the easiest dance, as he desired to join the dancers. 
Dr. Bellson told him that, not dancing himself, he was 
unable to tell him. Mrs. von Ranke asked me to take 
him to see her; he consented gladly, and a few evenings 
after I found myself driving in the embassy carriage 
with A. Sydney Biddle, young Burlingame, and a man 
in petticoats. Mrs. von Ranke and Mr. Fung had many 
things in common to talk about; We had tea, but as 
the Germans always pour off the first water with which 
the tea is made, I did not think my Celestial friend en- 
joyed it, but I did admire the courtly grace with which 
he took leave of the dear lady, bowing low to her with 
his hand on his heart and thanking her for her invitation 
to come to see her. This he did very often, and was 
especially delighted with her translation of a Chinese 

Christmas was close upon us. I dreaded it, knowing 
full well how much we should miss the two who made it 
bright for us in 1868. The " Jahr Market" I enjoyed 
very much because I could speak to the natives in their 
own tongue. The pavement in front of our house was 
filled with hobby-horses, the overflow of a toy-shop near 
us, but we were not disturbed by them. We were at all 
the entertainments given to the Chinese, and at last per- 
suaded my cousin, the Baroness von der Heydt, to enter- 
tain them with a " Christmas tree." She did, and it 
was a charming evening. I met many Germans during 
that winter ; all were kind and cordial, asking permission 
to see me " under the roof" that they might have a 
" small conversation." Mr. Kutter, a friend of the von 
der Heydts, delighted me much, he was full of fun, and 
asking me what I missed most from my own country, 


I rashly answered, " Roasted oysters." He said he would 
give " such a supper." My dear cousin, Mrs. Schmidt, 
offered her house for the occasion, and it was decided that 
the evening for the supper should be arranged between 
the Baroness Alice von der Heydt and Mr. Gustave Kut- 
ter. A few days after I received the following telegram : 

" We have the honor to invite you and your select male friends 
to oyster bake on Monday evening, eight o'clock. 

" Alice and Gustave." 

I knew the " select male friends" meant A. Sydney 
Biddle, my dear young friend of Philadelphia, who was 
making himself perfect in the German language, and 
also learning to play on the zither ; Dr. Richard H. Derby, 
of New York, who was studying the diseases of the eye ; 
and S. Dana Horton, of Ohio, a young lawyer deep in 
the study of old Roman law; so I at once mailed the 
following reply to my friends : 

" Dearest Alice and, oh ! thou still dearer Gustave ! 
I write at this moment to say that I have 
Your most welcome despatch, and your fine oyster bake 
Will see me right early (Gustave, for your sake). 

" For my males I can't answer, mails are always departin', 
And males, that are white folks, are ever ' unsartin,' 
But I'll give them the message when me meet at dinner 
And if any can't come he will be a true sinner. 

" But an instrument mainly engages Herr Biddle, 
A thing with much string, though it is not a fiddle. 
But the instrument I should most value for life, 
To employ all my time, — is a steel oyster-knife. 

" Dr. Derby is busy, — he devotes all his mind 
To this pleasant task, — giving sight to the blind. 
The eye that I hope he will gouge out to-morrow 
Is the eye of an oyster, 'twill give no one a sorrow. 


" Mr. Horton is deep in the old Roman laws, 
But I'm sure in that study he'll readily pause ; 
And if he is hungry we'll see his bright face, 
While the law, to necessity, gladly gives place." 

On the evening appointed at the home of Mrs. Schmidt 
we all met. Count Seisel and Mr. Kutter opened the 
door to admit us, arrayed in white caps and aprons as 
men cooks. They " baked" the oysters, which we ate 
with appetite, and did not tell the cooks they were not 
like " home oysters." The king's chamberlain. Baron 
von Steinuke, was present with his wife, and we were 
all full of fun. 

The guests were few. The proceedings were detailed 
the next day to the King, who " found" the Americans 
" very amusing," and laughed heartily. Abut this time 
Mr. Bancroft came to tell me that Count Bismarck had 
heard there was in Berlin a descendant of Franklin and 
had asked Mrs. Bancroft to give him an opportunity 
to see her. Mr. Bancroft added that he had asked 
Count Bismarck to name a day when he would take 
supper at the legation, and he would invite me. The 
count had gallantly answered, " I will leave that to the 
lady." Mr. Bancroft then proposed that the supper 
should take place on Washington's Birthday, then close 
at hand. I agreed, and there met the great man whose 
sun had risen, but not to his full glory then, a man who 
was a patriot and who loved his king and was his best 
adviser. He held his helmet when I was taken by Mr. 
Bancroft to speak to him. As we approached him he 
tucked the helmet under his left arm, and, taking my 
hand in both of his, he said, " I am proud to hold in my 
hand the blood of so great a man." He then asked me 


whether my mother was FrankHn's daughter. I told 
him, "No; his granddaughter." He then asked me 
whether my mother had remembered her grandfather, 
and many other questions, which I answered. He then 
said, " I may seem to you to be too curious, but I hope 
the cause may justify my curiosity." He said he could 
not understand why, if Franklin was born in Massachu- 
setts, he was so closely identified with Pennsylvania. 
He was evidently well posted, and only laughed when I 
said that Franklin had left Massachusetts as early in life 
as he could. He then spoke of the customs in the two 
countries, and told me he should be glad to visit America. 
I answered him he would be heartily welcomed; he 
commented on the height of American women, and I 
suppose I was several inches taller on this occasion than 
ever before; he asked me whether I did not think the 
German bedsteads were short, and as I agreed with him, 
he told me that he had implored his cabinet-maker to 
make him a bedstead seven feet long, and that the man 
had told him it would " humiliate him to make such a 
thing." When he brought the bedstead home he said 
it was humiliating for Count Bismarck to lie in such a 
thing. The whole conversation lasted a long time, he 
speaking beautiful English and only at a loss for one 
word. I helped him to that one word, and we parted. 

Early in March, 1869, I determined to go to Italy. I 
was urged to do this by all my friends, especially by the 
young friend who was to accompany me, A. Sydney 
Biddle. I left my girls well, happy, and tenderly cared 
for, and enjoyed every moment after I had left the Ber- 
lin Station. I had travelling companions, all women. 
The two elders, it appeared, had been watching me in 


the station, and had seen me appeal to Mr. Horton or 
the children when I wanted a question asked, so the first 
remark I heard was, " She must be English, she cannot 
be an American, for the Americans learn our language 
quickly." For once in my life I was willing to pose as 
an English dullard, rather than allow the ladies to think 
there was even one stupid American. The young girl 
wept when our train left Berlin and again when the two 
elders left at their station, so having dried my own tears 
through the medium of a sandwich and believing that 
food is necessary for the unhappy, I offered her one and 
asked her in my best German why she w^pt; she took 
the sandwich and said, " Because I am alone." I assured 
her she was not alone, and that I would be her friend 
and protector if she needed one. She cheered up in- 
stantly, and told me she was going to make a visit in 
Leipzig to her aunt, but she had never travelled before 
without her mother. Then she added, " I shall journey 
to Russia soon." I said, " With your mother?" " No," 
she said, blushing very much ; " I am to marry a Rus- 
sian." There were no traces of tears then. She told 
me her trousseau was all made at home with an American 
sewing-machine, and asking me if I would like to see 
her lover's picture, she produced a crystal ball, on one 
side of which was a watch and on the other side a picture 
of " Adolf Sigel," a very handsome young man. She 
left me at Leipzig and I went on alone to Munich, which 
I reached the next morning, and having there met A. 
Sydney Biddle, we pursued our journey to Lmsbruck 
at once, reaching there on the afternoon of the same 
day. I shall not describe this strange old town. I leave 
all descriptions of places to the long line of Baedeckers 


who have made the world so happy. Sydney had selected 
a hotel where Goethe had once stayed. I asked the 
German maid to show us Goethe's room; she told us 
it was occupied, but that the ladies were out. She tried 
the door, it yielded, and the ladies were there. With 
quiet self-possession she said, "Did you ring?" and 
then adding " Excuse me," she closed the door. The 
room my young companion slept in had formerly been 
occupied by Joseph II. I had the room in which he gave 
audience to his generals. A picture of His Majesty hung 
over my bed, but the majesty of sleep overpowered me, 
and I knew nothing until I was aroused at two-thirty 
A.M., and we began at four our journey across the Alps, 
over the Brenner Pass. It was quite dark when we en- 
tered the train ; but soon the stars began to die out one 
by one and daylight came to us. It was the grandest 
sight I ever saw. The snow mountains glittered in 
the sunlight, looking as fresh and fair as any young 
girl in her teens. I felt solemn when I thought that 
the mountains had stood there in all their loveliness ever 
since the world began, while even I had seen so many 
young girls fade and turn to old women with sadness 
taking the place of bloom on their sweet faces. But I 
was roused from my revery by hearing my young com- 
panion and our only two fellow-travellers, both Germans, 
talking together. One said he had been sixteen years 
in California and had there amassed a fortune making 
candy. He added that the death of his only child had 
made his wife a lunatic, and that there was nothing for 
him to do but to travel ; but he still seemed to look back 
with profound satisfaction to the days when he dabbled 
in treacle. We arrived in Verona at one o'clock in the 


day and began our sight-seeing. I could have stayed the 
rest of the day at the Church of St. Zanoni, but having 
prepared ourselves through the medium of an Italian 
grammar and the reading of a comedy for the study of 
the Italian language, we both insisted on speaking the 
language of the country. Indeed, before the day was 
out I waxed so bold as to address a young boy on the 
impropriety of his smoking at his tender age, telling 
him his complexion would be bad and he dwarfed. How 
I did this I know not, and I am still in the dark as to 
whether my first sermon in Italian produced a change of 
habit in the lad. We saw many sights, including Juliet's 
tomb and the House of the Capulets. The former I think 
a fraud, for when I asked a man who showed it to us 
why so many tombstones had other names than Capulet 
upon them, he promptly answered, and with a deep sigh, 
" They were friends of Juliet who desired to be buried 
near her." His grief at this recital was so profound 
that I felt tempted to ask him whether they had all been 
recently buried. Poor Juliet! We hear sometimes of 
those who rise up and bless the departed, but seldom 
of those who crave the privilege of lying beside us in 
the grave. But strange things happen after we are gone. 
A young ofBcer told me once in our own country during 
the late war that he would be glad to lay down his life 
for his country, but could not bear the idea that if he 
were killed some girl might rise up and say she was en- 
gaged to him. 

The house of the Capulets disappointed me much. A 
tall house in a narrow street seemed to me scarcely a 
convenient place for a young man in silk tights, with 
big bows on his shoes, to be whispering soft nothings 


to a young lady in a balcony the size of a chicken-coop. 
I looked all afternoon for the " Two Gentlemen," and 
thought I saw one of them with a light-green " Spanish" 
cloak hung over his left shoulder; fatigue and the fast 
gathering twilight compelled me to abandon the search 
for the " Second Gentleman." 

The next morning, after a restless night spent in damp 
sheets, we began again our tramp through the town. 
The Amphitheatre interested me so much that I must 
say a few words about it. Built in 284 by Diocletian, 
it was destroyed by the hand of man and by earthquake, 
but in the sixteenth century it was restored. Previous 
to that time it was the resort of the low and profligate, 
and this fact is by M. Valery considered a sufficient 
reason for the silence of Dante with regard to the Amphi- 
theatre at Verona; other writers say that Dante took 
from the form and internal arrangements of the building 
his idea of Hell as described in the " Inferno." The sight 
of the arena empty filled me with awe ; what must have 
been the feelings of its occupants when twenty-seven 
thousand were blessed there at one occasion by Pope 
Pius VI. ? Our time was short, and we went to the 
" Tombs of the Scaligers," a family wdio scattered bene- 
fits on all with whom they came in contact in life. They 
began life as ladder-makers, but between the fourth and 
fifth centuries their influence was paramount in the gov- 
ernment. This must be a consoling thought to those 
of us who have climbed the ladder of life by the help of 
pedlers, carpenters, blacksmiths, and soap-boilers. 

The next morning we left for Venice, where we spent 
five days, every moment of which was a delight. Many 
of the pictures moved me to tears, while the noiseless 


streets of water made me feel as if I were in another 
world than ours. We left Venice with regret and stopped 
for a few hours in Padua, which seemed to me to be fall- 
ing into decay, and venturing to suggest this to my schol- 
arly young companion, I was told that Padua would not 
fall into decay while it contained so many profound 
thinkers and so many learned scholars, so I comforted 
myself with the thought that grass grew in its streets 
because the inhabitants were in-doors poring over books, 
in order later to enlighten men's minds. No opportunity 
did my young companion miss for the storing of his mind. 
Early and late he had his books beside him. He knew 
the churches and public buildings which we visited with- 
out looking into a guide-book, and when I asked for any 
information he would say, " It is in B 6," or, " In A 4," 
and so on, so that when, after leaving Padua, I found 
myself suffering from the damp sheets in Verona and 
could not draw a breath without pain, I was obliged to 
prop myself against a wall in Bologna, our next stopping- 
place, to laugh at his prompt replies. Much that we 
saw in Bologna interested us. The people seemed differ- 
ent from the Italians we had as yet seen. They were 
more quiet and less obtrusive than in Verona, and yet 
more wide awake than those in Venice. Italy was to 
me like reading a delightful novel, each page we turned 
in each city gave us new ideas. The pictures delighted 
me. Raphael's St. Cecelia, the Crucifixion, and the 
Slaughter of the Innocents by Guido Reni were to me 
the most moving pictures I had ever seen. In one of 
the churches in Bologna I waited some time. A penitent 
was kneeling in the confessional when I entered, and a 
few minutes after another woman came in, and after 


kneeling in the aisle she rose and, coming towards me, 
said, " Are you waiting to confess?" I said " No," and 
she said, " I am so glad, for I am in a hurry too, but that 
woman there seems to have a good deal to say," and with 
a shrug of her shoulders she left me. I was very tired 
when we left Bologna for Florence, and laid down in 
the railway carriage while Sydney studied the guide- 
books. We had not gone far when two gentlemen were 
put into the compartment, and from one of them I had 
a good lesson in Christian tolerance. I rose when they 
came in, and one of them said, " Do not disturb your- 
self," and then began a lively conversation. He asked us 
in French, after finding our Italian faulty, where we 
had been and how we liked all we had seen. I said, " I 
am much pleased with your churches." " They are not 
my churches," was the answer. " Then you are a Prot- 
estant as I am," said I. " No ; I am an Israelite," said 
he ; " but as the Almighty tolerates me, I hope you will 
be able to." He bowed as he spoke and I felt reproved. 
We reached Florence safely and easily found our new 
friends, the Miss Homers, and were most warmly wel- 
comed. We next paid our respects to the then United 
States minister and his wife, and then I gave up all effort 
and went to bed with pain in my side. The tender care 
that the Miss Homers gave me I can never forget. One 
came every morning and the other every evening telling 
me charming stories about the English in their own 
homes. Mr. and Mrs. Horner had visited Sydney Smith, 
and had not only seen " Bunch" tying the reverend gen- 
tlemen's shoes, but had made the acquaintance of the don- 
keys with the horns fastened on their heads for " make- 
believe deer." I was shut away from sight-seeing for 


six days, but those days bound me to these dear friends 
with ties that can never be broken. When I was well 
they took me to the studio of Powers, the sculptor. I 
was delighted with this interview. He told me that he 
preached his sermons in stone, and showing me his statue 
of Eve, he said, " She says, ' I have sinned, but I repent.' " 
I thought there should be a second part to that sermon de- 
scribing the sensations of Adam ! But I find in this, the 
first page of the history of man, that Adam and his sin are 
quietly left in the background, and so it is to this hour. 
" The woman tempted me and I did eat" is still heard in 
our midst, and, alas ! all over the world. I saw much in 
Florence that was of great interest, but I will not in- 
dulge myself by describing what all, who will take the 
trouble to read these pages, have probably seen since 1869. 
After my illness was over I appeared for the first time 
at the breakfast-table in our most comfortable pen- 
sion. I there found two Englishwomen in hot dispute 
over the early life of Mary Magdalene. As they grew 
more and more animated I found that both thought her 
education had been neglected. I felt disposed to ask, 
"Who will cast the first stone?" but fearing I might 
offend, I only laughed, and when they saw me laughing 
they laughed also, and one of them said, " Were we not 
ridiculous?" and so began a pleasant acquaintance. 
There are, however, or perhaps I should say were, ridicu- 
lous people everywhere. At the table-d'hote in Bologna 
a portly American told us, in a loud voice, that he had 
seen every palace in all Italy, and that he found no modern 
conveniences in a single one. My young companion 
quivered, but I told him to cheer up; that the speaker 
was no doubt a retired plumber, and he had a right to 


speak well of his own line of business if he thought it 
would benefit mankind. But the Americans were not 
alone in making loud comments. An Englishman re- 
marked that " Americans had ruined travel on the Con- 
tinent for the English," that they were so " aggressive 
and inquisitive." I could not defend my people on this 
score, but I yearned to tell him that an Englishwoman had 
said to me, " Is it not very awkward for you to take your 
meals with your servants in America?" I answered, " My 
family have not done so for four generations ; what they 
did before they left England I do not know." I grieved 
much over the ignorance of our brethren of the mother- 
country. A young Oxford student, a charming fellow, 
asked me in Florence what was the capital of the United 
States, but he and his friend with him were eager to 
learn, and we were sorry to bid them good-by in Flor- 
ence. I was entreated by my friend S. D. Horton not 
to criticise any work of art in Italy until I had seen it 
thoroughly. I followed his advice as far as I could, 
but though it may be shocking to some, I took but one 
look at Titian's Venus, when I came to the conclusion 
she looked fat and lazy, too lazy even to put her clothes 
on. The Germans I had found " hewers of wood," but 
in Italy they are " drawers of water." If I had my choice 
I should prefer the first occupation. When I was suffi- 
ciently recovered we left Florence for Rome. I parted 
with much sorrow from my friends the Miss Horners, 
and with regret from the " roquelaire" they had loaned 
me, which had once belonged to Lord Holland; it had 
comforted me much in my illness, though I attribute no 
healing powers to it because it had belonged to a peer. 
We reached Rome safely, displayed our passports, and 


went at once to look for private lodgings. We found 
them after much difficulty, for I refused to take those that 
were without sun. The house which we finally occupied 
was opposite a market-place, and, as the landlord told 
us, had sun " matin et soir," and so we found it. We 
had our dinners brought to us, and our house was taken 
care of by a woman whose name was " Tarquinia." She 
had five children and the saddest face I ever saw, but 
as I lived on in Rome I wondered that any one could be 
gay there. Squalor and misery on one hand and the 
splendor of the priests' robes dazzling you on the other. 
In Florence all was clean and bright and its people having 
some idea of life. Our first visit was to the Vatican, 
where we feasted our eyes and stored our minds for 
four hours, then we retired to a quiet corner and ate 
our .luncheon. The Ecumenical Council was then in 
session, and I watched them, and on many days after 
the coming and going of the high dignitaries, members 
of the Council. They drove in gorgeous carriages, many 
of them with three footmen dressed with knee-breeches, 
cocked hats, and long cloaks. Amid all the gorgeous 
works of art on which I was feasting my eyes, and from 
which I hope I learned much, the people gave me daily 
added interest. The dark-eyed, mournful women hold- 
ing babies and dragging other children by the hand, and 
seeming to have no rest and no hope for any in the 
future, the men sitting idle on the corners of the streets 
with not a glimmer of ambition on their faces. Squalor 
seeming to sit where once all was glorious, all this de- 
pressed me much, and I confess, the sight of an Italian 
paving the streets in this our country has cheered me, for 
though our streets are not well cleaned, there Is hope 


for the future. I liked much to watch the women in 
the market-place alluring the passers-by to purchase their 
fish or their green vegetables. I saw a woman on Good- 
Friday morning tempt a " friar of orders gray" with bull- 
frogs' hind legs. Either the woman or the legs were 
too much for him; he took the legs, put them carefully 
under his habit, and when he had paid for them the miser- 
able temptress shook her finger derisively at him. I was 
more merciful; he looked pale and thin, and I felt sure 
he had a dispensation. 

Beside the market there was a large tub in the Piazza, 
where poor women were allowed at stated intervals to do 
their " family wash." The tub was about twenty feet 
long and ten broad. It was filled with clean water twice 
in a month, and there twenty or thirty women worked 
together. Each woman brought her own soap, each 
using the edge of the tub, which was about a foot broad, 
for a washboard. Here all chattered, laughed, and some- 
times fought. I saw one woman beat another with a 
wet sheet, and when she desisted, the compliment was 
returned by a succession of wet shirts rolled into balls 
and thrown full in the face of the assailant. 

I could not wait to see whether shirts or sheets won 
the day, for just then a poor horse came along and began 
to drink the refuse water in the tub, which turned my 
attention and made me very miserable. When the wash- 
day was over the women, by a wonderful stretch of 
imagination, fancied their clothes clean. Then they de- 
parted for their own homes with their clothes still wet 
in baskets on their heads. In a niche made in a corner 
of the wall of a house opposite to ours there was a very 
gay image of the Blessed Virgin carved in wood and 


painted in bright colors. Each passer-by sahited this 
figure, the men and boys removing their hats, the women 
dropping a courtesy. At the approach of Easter the im- 
age was taken away to have the paint renewed, but the 
salutation continued as before to the empty niche. 

We were comfortably housed except for fleas, which 
swarmed about us. My young companion said they were 
able to hew trees, for they had already lopped his limbs ; 
an old lady told me she consoled herself with the thought 
that one was never lonely where there were fleas. Our 
sitting-room was decorated by a miserable oil-painting 
of the Cenci, and hanging as a match to it was the por- 
trait of our landlord in a dress suit and black satin stock. 
He had in the picture bright-red cheeks, in real life he 
was sallow. At this time the young Oxford students 
we had met in Florence came to Rome to spend Easter, 
and finding hotel life expensive had gone to the police 
head-quarters to find out where we were, and then came 
to us and settled themselves under the same roof. One 
was Mr. Bellingham, an Irishman, and the other Mr. 
Colquhoun, a Scotchman. We liked them both and 
they amused us not a little. 

Meantime, we were gathering acquaintances in Rome 
among the English and Americans, and the young Oxford 
men were often included in the invitations extended to 
us. One of these young men had a title in prospect, and 
a title with Americans, as with English, is always attrac- 
tive. Miss Anne Brewster was unremitting in her kind- 
ness to us, and being a strict Roman Catholic she gained 
us many an opportunity to see the sights which were 
closed to most Protestants. She obtained for us on 
the Sunday in Passion Week an entrance to the open 


session of the Ecumenical Council, when the Litany of 
the Saints was sung by the dignitaries of the Church 
from all over the world. It was an imposing spectacle 
and a solemn occasion, which I cannot forget, but whicji 
I cannot describe; but our journey to St. Peter's on 
that day I must relate. My young companion went 
often to a shop where photographs were sold, where the 
head salesman was most obliging and looked up for him 
constantly photographs which were difficult to procure. 
On the afternoon before we were to go to the open 
Council this head salesman, whom I will name Mr. O., 
asked us whether we had ever seen the Ghetto on Sunday 
morning. We said, " No," and he obligingly asked to 
be allowed the privilege of taking us there on the next 
day. He assured us that if we would leave home at 
nine o'clock in the morning we could see all that could 
be seen at the Ghetto and reach St. Peter's in ample 
time for the open council. At nine o'clock Mr. O. ap- 
peared, we called for Miss Brewster, and reached the 
Ghetto, or " Jews' Quarter." We found it a " quarter" 
for all people, and whenever I hear the prayer for " Jews, 
Turks, infidels, etc.," I think of the Ghetto. In the 
middle of a large square stood a wagon with a white 
cover bordered with stripes of red material. This, Mr. 
O. told us, was the car of a travelling dentist. All sorts 
of music from hand-organs was going on when the dentist 
appeared with a case of instruments and a number of 
bottles containing liquid, which he shook as he placed 
himself in front of a little stand. Then half in Italian, 
half in miserable French, he began a harangue, offering 
to those before him a certain cure for toothache if those 
who were suffering from it would come to him. Finally 



a middle-aged man accepted the invitation, and was told 
to open his mouth and shut his eyes. This he obediently 
did after showing the uncomfortable tooth. The dentist 
took an instrument a foot long, and plunging it into the 
offender, the patient opened eyes and mouth, uttering 
a loud cry, while his heels flew higher than his head. 
In a few seconds he was quiet again, and the operator 
filled the tooth with cotton soaked in the contents of one 
of the phials, and the patient pronounced himself cured ! 
Then began a brisk sale of the little bottles. All this was 
so absorbing that we had not missed Mr. O. from our 
side. Then we got into our little open carriage, in a few 
minutes he came, and we drove off. Miss Brewster and 
I sat together in the carriage, Mr. O, opposite to us, 
and A. Sydney Biddle in front beside the driver. After 
a few minutes Miss Brewster pointed out to me a build- 
ing, when to my horror and surprise Mr. O. said, fiercely, 
" You cannot look at that now." He looked so red and 
his eyes were so wild that nothing would have tempted 
me to look at anything but him; in a moment more he 
was asleep. Miss Brewster whispered, " What shall we 
do?" " Nothing now, but when we reach St. Peter's you 
get quickly out on your side and I will on mine." We 
knew that during his absence from us he had taken 
something intoxicating. I stepped out, and had scarcely 
reached the pavement before a loud scream from Miss 
Brewster announced her fall on the pavement and the 
miserable Mr, O. by her side. The first nvords she 
uttered were, " Oh, my best camel's hair 1" Mr. O. was 
speechless but bleeding. My young companion, A. Syd- 
ney Biddle, put him back into the carriage and took him 
to his home, thus missing the grand sight of the open 


Council, but satisfying his always wide-awake conscience 
that he had done his duty to his neighbor, while Miss 
Brewster and I " passed by on the other side" into the 
open Council, where we heard the finest music I had 
heard in Italy and saw one of the grandest sights I had 
ever seen. 

I went through all the ceremonies of Holy Week with 
determination, for they involved much sacrifice. On 
Palm-Sunday it was necessary for us to be at St. Peter's 
by seven o'clock in the morning. We knew it would be 
impossible to secure the services of Tarquinia at that 
early hour, so we had eggs boiled hard the evening 
before, filled our spirit lamp to make our coffee, and 
bought enough bread to enable us to invite our young 
Irish and Scotch fellow-lodgers to breakfast with us at 
six o'clock. A cold chicken was added to this repast, 
and we four enjoyed it thoroughly, and left for St. 
Peter's each armed with a camp-stool. The portion of 
the church allotted to ladies near the high altar was 
already filled, but the guard obligingly allowed me and 
two other ladies to place our camp-stools in front. One 
of my neighbors was a German Lutheran, the other a 
French Roman Catholic. The pause before the entrance 
of the procession was long, and I feared my neighbors 
would come to blows over my prostrate body and my 
camp-stool. When the war of words was hottest I inter- 
fered, and speaking to the Frenchwoman of the purity 
of the Lutheran faith in Germany, and to the German 
of the piety of the French Catholics (though the only 
model I had for this last criticism was the faith and 
works of our dear Soeur Angelique), I succeeded finally 
in restoring tranquillity, and they asked me many ques- 


tions about my own country, which I answered to their 
apparent satisfaction. At last we saw in the back part 
of the church a large arm-chair ornamented with white 
ostrich feathers waving behind it and the old Pope Pius 
IX. seated on it. Then the choir began to chant and the 
procession moved forward towards the high altar, car- 
dinals, archbishops, and bishops, and finally the Pope 
in his uplifted arm-chair; he scattered blessings on all, 
and as he passed, men, women, children, and soldiers 
prostrated themselves before him. Each member of the 
Ecumenical Council was followed by a theologian, a man 
hisfh in the Church and who solves for his chief all the 


theological difficulties. I concluded that after the In- 
fallibility question should be decided there would be no 
need for theologians, and felt glad that I was seeing as 
many men as I did in that most interesting and imposing 
procession. Each carried in his hand a long palm, not 
green like those at home, but yellow and plaited into all 
sorts of shapes. They walked in their purple robes past 
where I stood, and a finer-looking set of men I never 
saw. My French neighbor pointed out Antonelli to 
me, a man with thin sallow face, a good deal like a dried 
lemon. Any one could have seen in that man's face that 
there had been war between his spirit and his flesh, and 
it seemed to me that the warfare still continued, for 
there was no sign of repose there, and I felt sorry for 
him. When the dignitaries reached the eight hundred 
chairs which had been prepared for them, they stood 
until the Pope was seated. Then some change was made 
in the Pope's vestments, and the ceremony of blessing 
the palms began. Each dignitary advanced alone, knelt 
in front of the Pope, and handed his palm to two cardinals 


who stood on either side of the Pope. They held the 
palm by each end, the Pope patted it tenderly up and 
down, then it was held over the head of the presenter, 
and he, after kissing the Pope's hand, retired. This 
ceremony lasted a long time, the chanting still continuing, 
then a few prayers were said, the Pope was lifted on 
the shoulders of his bearers and carried out to the vesti- 
bule, where he gave his blessing to the military. Not 
knowing what was to happen and being determined to 
follow the old gentleman, I shouldered my camp-stool 
and went. The crowd was great, but there was space 
in that great building, and I reached the vestibule in time 
to see long lines of soldiers in full array and to hear when 
the Pope reached the vestibule the tremendous clatter 
which was made by their swords and muskets as they 
knelt to receive his fatherly blessing. 



We spent Holy-Thursday in the early morning at the 
Palace of the Caesars. The hours we spent there were 
to nie the most solemn hours of that holy day. The whole 
ruin seemed peopled with those whose lives I had studied 
in my youth, and the very stones preached of the short- 
ness and uncertainty of human life. We then went to 
St. Peter's to see the ceremony of the " washing of the 
feet" by the Pope, but it was a most disappointing spec- 
tacle, not in the least like the " foot washing" it was meant 
to represent. We then went to the Vatican, where the 
" Last Supper" was to be celebrated, but there was so 
little solemnity there that we left in sorrow. 

When I reached Rome I was told that if I desired an 
audience with the Pope I must send my request to the 
Vatican. Accordingly I made known the wishes of my- 
self and my young companion, but receiving no answer, 
concluded that we were not to be gratified. On Good- 
Friday, however, a communication came from the Vati- 
can stating that the Holy Father the Pope would be glad 
to receive us at half-past four in the afternoon of April 
15. In this communication the dress to be worn on the 
occasion was indicated, and we were also told that it 
was forbidden to present to His Holiness any written 
communication with the hope of procuring his autograph. 

These directions we were glad to comply with, and 
at four o'clock on the day indicated we began to mount 
the Papal staircase, but, alas! not alone; there were 


many others of all nationalities bent on the same pleasure 
as ourselves, but they were not cast down, and I as usual 
found contentment by watching the movement of those 
around us. We were conducted through the Stanze of 
Raphael to the Pope's private apartment, then through 
two antechambers into the " Gallery of Maps," where the 
reception took place. Although this gallery is five hun- 
dred feet long, a great crowd was assembled already. 
All tongues were in motion, but French was the principal 
language spoken, and there were at least one thousand 
persons present. Every one had brought some article 
to be blessed. There were crucifixes, some a foot long, 
some only an inch. Beads all sizes and colors. Saints 
in bronze, saints in silver, saints in gold. Saints under 
all circumstances, from St. Lawrence kneeling on his 
lighted fagots to St. Jerome pierced with the cruel 
arrows. All the articles were held in the hands of those 
present. One lady had a large basket, known among 
us as a " baby basket," filled with rosaries. I held the 
crucifix I had bought for Sceur Angelique and my com- 
panion held some rosaries. In about half an hour we 
were ranged in rows down the sides of the gallery and 
then were all hushed, and a military guard appeared at 
one end of the gallery followed by a few bishops and 
then a circle of soldiers. They all looked like the setting 
of some precious stone. Then came the stone itself! — 
Pope Pius IX. Dressed in a white robe with a closely 
fitting white cap on his head, his expression calm and 
benign, he looked as if he had no care. He had no 
appearance of being a man of strong emotions, no iur-^ 
rows, no deep lines, his skin as smooth as an infant's, 
he seemed a calm old man waiting for the end and ready 


to welcome it. He walked down to the middle of the 
gallery (the bystanders all kneeling as he passed) then 
paused, and thus addressed us in French : " It has here- 
tofore been usual for me to take by the hand those who 
have been presented to me and to say a few words to 
each person. The numbers now present will prevent this, 
and the services of the past few days have also been 
exhausting to me. Still, I feel that our minds are so 
full of these services, and that to each and all the agony 
of our blessed Lord is so present at this moment, that I 
will address myself to all. The words of the Lord that 
are in my mind now are, ' It is finished.' In uttering 
these words Lie not only meant that prophecy concerning 
Him was fulfilled, but that His work of love and charity 
was completed, and also that the ingratitude of those 
around Him was forgiven. May each one now before 
me pray that his last moments may be gladdened with 
the thought that all is finished, may each one feel that he 
has prayed for those around him as he ought." 

Thus far in this address of the Pope all Protestants 
could go with him : he then added some words concerning 
the great necessity there was for forgiveness towards 
those who refused to acknowledge the representative of 
God, and also something about a remark of the Blessed 
Virgin. As every woman in life fits each sermon to 
a head not under her own bonnet, I comforted myself 
with the thought that in speaking of " ungrateful ones" 
he alluded to the refractory members of the Ecumenical 
Council, and I left the Vatican after the benediction had 
been given by the Pope and he had retired, much pleased 
with all I had seen and heard. 

We attended high mass on Easter morning, and mag- 


nificent as I had thought the vestments of the clergy on 
previous occasions, on this blessed morning they sur- 
passed even my dreams. My camp-stool was still my 
companion, and as we stood far back I stood on it, and 
saw and heard well over the heads of others. A very 
short Englishwoman stood beside me, and pitying her 
lowly condition I offered her my camp-stool, which she 
took without thanks, and apparently without compunction, 
but I forgave her. She, however, stood on the seat of 
the stool and not on the side bars. Presently I felt some- 
thing like a struggle beside me, and found the little woman 
and my camp-stool a mass of ruins. I helped her up, 
and soon after found a seat elsewhere, close to some 
Italian ladies, who chattered and laughed during the 
most solemn part of the administration of the Holy 
Communion. I felt like speaking to them, but desisted. 
Presently I heard the voice of an American woman be- 
hind me say to the Italians, " Are you Roman Catholics ?" 
" Yes," was the reply. " And you can chatter and laugh 
at this most solemn moment? I, as a Protestant, can- 
not understand it." I felt proud of my countrywoman. 
On Easter-Sunday night we went in an open carriage 
to witness the lighting of the faqade of St. Peter's. This 
has been so often described that I will only say it sur- 
passed all my expectations, and so enchanted our two 
young Oxford students who were with us that one of 
them rose in the carriage and said, " Is not that awfully 
jolly?" The older one answered, "It is awfully rum." 
My young companion and I remained silent, not by 
even a remote allusion to Yankee Doodle betraying our 

Thus ended our experience in Rome. I was reproached 


by friends at home for not having given more vivid 
descriptions of the great buildings which existed before 
the time of Constantine. In this, my " Book of Remem- 
brance," I have left description nearly altogether out, 
because my pen seems too feeble to describe the places 
in which I felt always unworthy even to tread. The 
Pantheon was my favorite spot, however, and there I 
went one moonlight night with my three companions. 
We sat there a long time ; the open roof seemed intended 
to let the moonlight in. The young men talked freely 
of the religious faith of the old time and of that which 
we all held then in 1869. Never did words of wisdom 
fall on my ears with greater force than from the lips 
of those three honest and upright young men. I was 
profoundly impressed, and when Sydney asked me to 
sing a hymn I did it, though trembling lest the sacristan 
should hear it and forbid it. Then in memory of all 
the loving-kindness of Samuel Dana Horton I sang the 
Ave Maria, which we hoped might be our excuse with 
the sacristan for thus disturbing the quiet of the night. 

The Capitol was the favorite of my young companion, 
the longing last look which he gave at the Castor and 
Pollox which seemed to mount guard at the head of the 
great staircase is still with me ; but we had to say " Good- 
by." Our farewell to Tarquinia was long drawn out. 
Sydney thanked her in Latin, I in Italian. Our train 
for Naples was advertised to leave at nine-thirty a.m., 
but like most things in the Papal dominions the train 
was slow and we left at ten-thirty. In our coupe there 
were two Italian gentlemen and one 3^oung Frenchman; 
this last was dressed most beautifully, with claret-brown 
cravat and gloves to match; his face wore an anxious 


look, and after a few minutes he told me he was " miser- 
able;" he had put his handbag containing his toilet 
articles at his feet while he bought his ticket, and when 
he had secured that his handbag was gone and he desolc, 
but congratulated himself that he still had his paletot. 
When we reached the Italian frontier we were obliged 
to change cars, and on asking the reason, one of the 
Italians said, " Madame, the Papal cars are all blessed, 
and Italy being excommunicate, nothing that is blessed 
can pass therein." We all laughed, but I believed him. 
We were again about to start when the young Frenchman 
rushed to the windows of the car by which I sat and 
said, " It is I know, madame, incredible, but my paletot 
is likewise gone!" I offered him my hurried but heart- 
felt sympathy and he vanished from my sight forever. 

We reached Naples safely, having had a welcome, while 
in the train, from Vesuvius. We soon sallied forth to 
look around us. My young companion went straight 
to the Museum. I loitered on the road to see the people, 
and a sorry sight it was. Men, women, and children were 
all pursuing their avocations on the sidewalks. Cobblers, 
tailors, sewing women, spinning women, nursing babies 
and toddling babies, all out of doors; women having 
their hair combed in the street ! All this was unpleasant, 
but the most unpleasant sight was the beggars. I can- 
not describe them. We gave to those that were crippled 
or blind, but refused alms to those who were able-bodied. 
Our refusals were invariably met with good nature, a 
smile or " thank you." This was a change from the 
Roman beggar, who not only frowns on the refuser but 
reviles him. These were so cheerful that I addressed 
some of them in their native language, but, strange to 


say, was not understood. The Museum kept us busy 
for that day and many days. I had learned much in 
the past two weeks, and could consequently enjoy much. 
Our hotel was comfortable, and we sat down to dinner 
at half -past six. My neighbor at the table was a charm- 
ing young English clergyman. He heaved a sigh of 
relief when I told him our faith was the same, and I 
think redoubled his attentions with the thought that he 
might possibly meet me in another world. Finally he 
asked me what we meant to do with ourselves that even- 
ing. I was afraid to tell him we meant to go to see a 
" Neapolitan Punch" until he burst forth with lamenta- 
tions loud and long that the opera was closed for the 
season. Then I waxed bold, and told him " Punch" was 
our hope for the evening, and he gave me hope that he 
would meet us there. We set forth, and were as usual 
cheated, this time by the man at the box-office, who, 
instead of telling us " Punch" was not there, took our 
money and showed us our seats, whispering to us that 
the afternoon performance was about to close, but that 
the evening play would begin at nine-thirty. In a few 
minutes the curtain fell, the audience dispersed, the lights 
grew dim, and Sydney dozed. From behind the curtains 
came noises which convinced me that a family tea was 
in progress; after it was over little children came, in 
queer little pinafores, from behind the curtain, and were 
taken back when the lights began to brighten and the 
audience to gather. The orchestra assembled, but as 
they sat among the audience they could only be dis- 
tinguished by their Instruments, the leader making him- 
self known by a larger sheet of music than the rest and 
a flourish which corresponded with the sheet! Finally 


the curtain rose. Love-making, of course. The heroine 
was a pretty woman, who I soon found was the mother 
who had presided over the aforesaid " family tea." I 
pitied her, for in the midst of Hstening to the entreaties 
of her lover that she would '' only say yes" she was by 
little signs attempting to quiet the cries of her baby 
behind the scenes. We left without knowing which 
gained the victory, the lover or the baby. We did not 
meet the English clergyman, but hope, in accordance 
with the expectations of his order, he reached the right 

The next morning we went for a few moments into 
the reading-room of the hotel to see the newspapers. 
Two old English ladies whom I had seen before were 
there, and one of them came to me as I was about to 
leave and said, with a tone of great anxiety, " Have you 
any news of Lord Moncaster?" I told her, as gently 
as I could, that I had not the pleasure of knowing his 
lordship, and then with an earnest desire to heal any 
wound I might have inflicted on an English heart by 
ignorance with regard to any member of the peerage, I 
said, " I am only an American." " You an American !" 
was the answer. " My sister and I have been listening 
to you, you speak such beautiful English." I told her, 
doubtless with some asperity, that some Americans 
thought they spoke the language grammatically, and then 
she, not resenting what I had said, laid her hand gently 
on my knee and said, " We are all of one family, are 
we not, my dear?" Thus did " a soft answer turn away 
wrath," and we were friends. As I look back and re- 
member how much of my comfort and happiness I owe 
to English friends during the seven years I have lived 


abroad I feel sorry for the prejudices I have held against 
my mother-country. I learned from a Jew to be tolerant 
towards the religious tenets of all mankind, and from 
my English friends I have learned much that was ex- 

The Museum, the drives, the trip to Capri, I will not 
dwell upon. The natives I will leave to others. There 
were few Americans in our hotel, and our dinners were 
enlivened by the conversation of the young English 
clergyman. He drew my attention one day to a young 
woman with her hair curled down her back; she talked 
loudly and was evidently well contented with herself. I 
thought she was English, the clergyman thought her an 
American, but neither of us was anxious to settle the 
question. My neighbor told me he preached every Sun- 
day at Sorrento. I proposed that we should spend Sun- 
day there ; Sydney agreed, and arranged that we should 
drive on Saturday morning early to Pompeii, spend some 
hours there, and drive on to Sorrento in the afternoon. 
Pompeii entranced us; we were allowed to watch the 
excavations by special permit, and saw some beautiful 
frescoes uncovered, the colors of which were as bright 
as the day on which they were painted. 

At two o'clock we left and took luncheon, and were 
then besieged by guides, who entreated us to go up Vesu- 
vius; the landlord at the inn told us we could never 
have so fine a day and that we should return in ample 
time to take our carriage to Sorrento. We decided to 
go, I on a horse as far as a horse would carry me, Sydney 
on foot. When we reached the spot where I must leave 
the horse, one of the guides fastened a large pink hand- 
kerchief around his waist and told me to take hold and 


follow him. On we went for a short distance, when we 
were besieged by another set of guides, who told us in 
a mixture of very bad English and French that the guides 
we had had no right to that side of the mountain, but 
we explained that knowing nothing of the right or wrong 
side of the volcano and having engaged the men we had, 
we should so continue. On we went, listening the while 
to a war of words between the two sets of guides ; finally 
the set No. 2 began to make wild sport of me, one say- 
ing, " Just look at madame, ha ! ha ! she is red as a rose ; 
her feet will soon give out; we will stay by her and 
she will pay us to carry her down; to-morrow she will 
be in bed and for many days to come ; she will be tired ; 
look at her boots." Sydney and his guide had gone ahead 
and did not hear this tirade, each sentence of which was 
delivered in jerks and with derisive laughter. I bore 
it as long as I could, then telling my guide to stop, I 
said, " If you do not leave me at once I will oblige you 
to." How I was to " oblige them to" I did not know, 
for my only weapon of defence, my umbrella, was at the 
foot of the mountain. All that I had to cling to was the 
pink handkerchief. I waited for a moment, the three 
men spoke together, and without a " farewell" slunk off. 
We reached the crater, smelled the brimstone, saw the 
open mouth of that tremendous and awful volcano, and 
descended in hot haste, as we were obliged to ; there can 
be no pause there or the feet will sink. When we reached 
the foot I was sadder than before, for I had to " look 
at my boots," and found them in slits, and lost all hope 
of hearing the sermon on the next day. 

It was dark when we began our drive to Sorrento; 
the landlord at the inn asked if we were armed, as there 


were banditti, and we left without a sign of fear. The 
moonhght was with us, we reached our hotel, and were 
glad. We found in the breakfast-room the next morning 
a very large round table, at which were seated many 
English people and the lady with her hair curled down 
her back and two companions whom we had seen in Na- 
ples, and of whose nationality we were still in doubt. We 
had not been seated many minutes before I heard from 
the lady with the curls, " Madame, are you an American?" 
Tlie intonation of the voice belonged to none but an 
American, and the manner did not disclose good breeding. 
The English guests dropped their coffee-spoons, and their 
chins also dropped until they rested on their bosoms; I 
looked in vain around that board, hoping that the question 
had been addressed to some other guest, and finding that 
hopeless, I said, " I am." Before coffee-spoons had been 
retaken or their chins had resumed their normal con- 
dition I heard these words : " Pappy said he recognized 
your countenance." I wishing devoutly that I was be- 
yond recognition, we soon left the table. Sydney went 
to church, I watched the new arrivals from my window, 
and took from the hems of my garments the ashes which 
had sifted into them during our mount to Vesuvius, 
making them look like stiff cords instead of hems. I 
saw many an eager face as carriage after carriage let 
their inmates free on to the porch of our hotel, but the 
fellow-traveller who interested me most was a stout Eng- 
lishman with his " Murray" under his arm, who on reach- 
ing the porch said to the landlord, who received him with 
open arms, " Je voudrais voir tout." When Sydney came 
from church I told him all I had seen and heard in divers 
tongues, we dined, and he proposed taking a boat and 


rowing along that beautiful shore. We had not gone 
far before we saw a man's head above the water, swim- 
ming. He was a long distance from us, but I soon saw 
he was the Englishman who wished to see everything. 
As soon as he saw us he swam rapidly to the shore where 
his clothes were lying, and in his agitation put on his 

The next morning found us ready to return to Naples. 
We drove to Castelemar, where we were to take the 
train for Naples, and found it gone. This involved a 
delay, and I proposed we should walk about the queer 
old town and see the houses. We had not gone far 
before we were joined by a boy, who, seeing we were 
strangers, said, "You want see church?" Sydney, who 
at that moment only desired to see the Museum at 
Naples, answered him " No," very curtly, but the boy of 
Southern Italy was not to be discouraged, and proposed 
our seeing shops, and was again rebuffed. I then thought 
he would leave us, and began to laugh as he still followed 
us, saying, " Want see macaroni made ? My mother 
make fine." At this last proposition Sydney faced him 
and said, " We wish you to leave us." The boy bowed 
and left us, saying, " You very cross gentleman, you 
mother she very nice gentleman, she laugh all the time." 
We reached Naples safely and went straight to the Mu- 
seum. We had spent five weeks in Rome and eleven days 
in Naples. We sailed from Naples to Leghorn in twenty- 
seven hours, went at once from Leghorn to Pisa, and 
finding there was but one train from Leghorn to Florence 
which would reach Florence before the bank closed, and 
being anxious for letters, we rose at five in the morning 
and were in the Leaning Tower before six. We then 



visited the Cathedral, the Baptistry, and the Campo Santa, 
and left for Florence at nine-thirty a.m. Our old friends 
received us tenderly, and our " Walks about Florence" 
in company with the dear authoress of the book were 
full of interest, profit, and pleasure. I recall one ridicu- 
lous incident during our stay there. Sydney and I both 
had some gloves to be cleaned. We took them to a small 
shop to which we had been directed. Finding that the 
shopkeeper did not understand French, I left to Sydney 
the directions in the matter, and his Latin. Suddenly 
remembering that we had made but little use of the Italian 
comedy with which we thought we had fortified our- 
selves in the language of Italy before we left Berlin, I 
lifted up my voice, and quoting the first sentence in the 
play, said, " E questa e la casa di mio Fratello, cospetto ! 
lo credevi di entrare nel Palazzo di un Principi." I never 
shall forget the astonishment of the shopwomen, but when 
I laughed they laughed. Sydney alone looked disturbed. 
When I proposed returning after a day or two for our 
gloves, I was told that was impossible, as the people 
must have thought my reason unhinged and I might be 
consigned to a " Alaison de Sante." I lost my gloves, 
but would cheerfully have given a new pair for the sight 
of the faces of those shopkeepers on the day I made 
my oration. 

We left Florence with great regret and our friends with 
sorrow. We spent one day in Parma on our way north. 
I there made my sixth and last attempt to enter a monas- 
tery. Sydney was, as ever, cordially welcomed, but 
the unhappy faces of the old friars, and especially the 
one who, with both hands raised and his face shaking, 
said, " Non, non, signora," are before me now. The 


younger ones hid their faces and ran away. They re- 
membered perhaps the history of the Garden of Eden 
with the same ingratitude that appears to exist in the 
bosoms of men of the world, the effect, however, is 
different. The man of the world courts the society of 
the daughters of Eve, the friar flees from it. Who shall 
decide which is wisest ? We spent one night at Bologna, 
taking a train at four a.m. the next morning for Padua. 
Here my young companion and I said " Good-by." He 
to see a little more of Italy, I to return to my children in 

It was not a pleasant " Good-by." We had spent sixty- 
three days together, in sympathy with all we saw; he 
had helped me with his Latin, I him with my French. 
His knowledge of Latin and Greek and of history made 
me tread the old classic ground and understand the old 
buildings as I never could have understood them with 
an ordinary fellow-traveller. All this was over. I had 
left Berlin with no knowledge of church architecture. 
I was returning to it (so great had been my advantages) 
with the fullest confidence that I could build a church, 
model the bust or paint the portrait of any friend I have, 
verifying through my conceit that " a little knowledge 
is a dangerous thing." I passed several hours in Verona 
on my way north, and then went over the Brenner to 
Innsbruck. I was glad when I reached the German fron- 
tier, for one has a feeling of security in travelling in that 
country which is not felt in other Continental countries. 
The railway guards, who are stationed along the roads 
at intervals of one-third of a mile, look as if they never 
left their posts; their very faces have written on them 
" Duty first." In France one fears a guard may leave 


his station to twirl his moustache, brighten his buttons, 
or blacken his boots. In Germany these little arrange- 
ments are made at daybreak. My dreams throughout 
this journey carried me always back to Italy, and oddly 
enough the statues I had seen were always dancing. Her- 
cules came to me in a polka, while Jupiter and Puck 
danced a Virginia reel. 

I found all well when I reached Berlin and my children 
eager to be allowed to attend the wedding of young Tal- 
bot, who was our " Blue Sky" in the early Berlin days. 
He was to be married on June i to Miss B., a young 
American; the invitations to the wedding had already 
come to us. Lord Lome was to be the " best man," 
and Miss Bismarck one of the bride's attendants. I 
accepted the invitation gladly. Our " Blue Sky" was 
not to be forgotten. A few days before the wedding 
an English lady said to me, " It is a singular coincidence, 
but an Earl of Shrewsbury and a Duke of Argyle (then 
Lord Lome) are both said to have married in humble 
life in days gone by." As I did not see the coincidence, 
I said so, and when the answer came, " Lieutenant Talbot 
marries an American," I only laughed, and the long line 
of marriages which have since taken place between Eng- 
lishmen and American women have given me further 
cause for amusement. In 1870 all America was " hum- 
ble life" in the eyes of the mother-country. 

We went to the wedding in the church and then to 
the breakfast. This was to me a novelty. Lord Loftus 
made a long speech after toasting the bride and groom. 
He told us that the union we had just witnessed was 
emblematic of the union which must always exist between 
the mother-country and her offspring; he ended by tell- 


ing us that all the English admired and respected Amer- 
ica. I wanted to say as he sat down, " Then you should 
choke your editors." Then Talbot toasted the brides- 
maids, and Lord Lome replied on their behalf. Then 
the groom's father toasted everybody, and then the guests 
repaired to the drawing-room, where there was dancing. 

This was our last great festivity in Berlin. On our 
taking leave of the kind friends we had found there I 
will not dwell. We suffered, and I am sure they did. 
My parting with the young linen merchant was both 
pathetic and amusing. I had found so much difficulty 
when I first arrived in measuring through metres, that 
he had had a yard-stick made for my accommodation. 
I saw him last leaning on the yard-stick and patting it 
(as tenderly as I had seen the Pope pat the palms as 
he blessed them) while he said, " Mrs. Jillsby, the young 
men all ask, ' What shall I do with the yard-stick when 
I have lost my tight friend, Mrs. Jillsby?' I say to 
them, ' I will keep the yard-stick for the future orders 
of Mrs. Jillsby.' Farewell." 



We left Berlin with my cousin, Alice Patterson, bound 
for Oberammergau and the Miracle Play. Our first 
stopping-place was Munich. From there we took a train 
for Weilheim, and from there we had " post places" to 
Murnau, where we were to pass the night. We were 
shown to our " post places," and as the crowd which 
issued from the train when we stopped was tremendous, 
we seated ourselves in our improvised " post" without 
remonstrance, though it proved to be only a hay-cart 
with seats running from end to end and without a 
single spring. Our fellow-passengers were a Franciscan 
monk, two young Englishmen, and three Germans. In 
spite of the rough vehicle we were a jolly party, arriving 
at the little inn in Murnau in the best humor with each 
other. We found the dining-room full of hungry peas- 
ants, but the landlord received us with open arms, called 
us " Herrschafften," and had a table laid for us in the cor- 
ner with his best china and glass. We did full justice to 
the meal, and retired for the night all four in one room 
over the barn. We were wakened at three in the morn- 
ing and continued our journey in the so-called post-coach 
with the same company. The sunrise was beautiful to 
us all, though to the monk it was less of a novelty than 
to me. Our Englishmen had turned out such agreeable 
companions that we called one " Torp" and the other 
" Hamilton." I had " Quits" and the " Initials" both 
with me, for to the reading of the first-named book I 


must ill justice ascribe my first desire to visit Oberam- 
mergau and to see the Miracle Play. 

When we reached the village of Oberau we were told 
that we must alight and walk up the Ettal Mountain. 
This we did, not unwillingly, for the Hay-cart had not 
proved an easy vehicle. When we reached the top of 
the mountain we found, as the guide-books had told us, 
a monastery, in the chapel of which we found our monk 
saying mass. After the service was over we again set 
off, and were soon in the village of Oberammergau. 

Before entering on a detailed account of the Miracle 
Play of 1870 some few facts as to the region of country 
in which it is performed and of the origin of the play 
itself may be interesting. Oberammergau is one of 
many villages which lie in the valleys of the Bavarian 
highlands. It was not in 1870 a pretty village, having, 
as most German villages, one main street and tributary 
lanes. The houses were remarkable for their cleanliness. 
Here and there a pretty balcony in carved wood met the 
eye and at every door a hospitable bench offered rest 
to the weary. Wood-carving was the principle means 
of support of the population, and the interior decorations 
of the church gave ample evidence of their skill. The 
steeple of the church was the only prominent object in 
the village. The Passion Play was performed in a 
temporary building, which, however, always occupies the 
same site, at one end of the village, between two rows 
of poplars, trees that were regarded as sacred, as they 
belong to the family of the aspen, which, the legend de- 
clares, has never ceased to shiver through all its leaves 
since the cross of Christ was cut from its branches. 

The Passion Play owes its origin to these facts: In 


1633 there raged in the neighborhood of the Ammerthal, 
especially at Partenkirchen, Eschenlohe, and Kohlgrub, 
a contagious fever which proved fatal to vast numbers 
of the inhabitants. Every precaution was taken to pre- 
vent the spread of the disease, and communication was 
prohibited with the neighboring towns. It happened, 
however, that a laborer of Oberammergau who had been 
employed at Kohlgrub desired to return to spend a church 
festival with his family, and entered Oberammergau by 
a secret mountain pass carrying with him the seeds of 
the disease. In two days he was dead, and in a short 
time eighty-four others had shared his fate. So im- 
pressed were these simple people by this visitation that 
they made a vow to Almighty God to represent the 
passion and death of our Lord Jesus Christ every ten 
years, hoping by this means to arouse and keep alive in 
the breasts of the young a holy determination to amend 
their lives by His example. It is asserted that after this 
vow was registered no further deaths occurred, although 
many then lay in extremity. 

A committee of twenty of the oldest men in the village 
was then appointed to superintend the faithful perform- 
ance of this vow and to choose from its inhabitants those 
who were to take part in the religious ceremonies. This 
plan is carried out to this present day, vacancies in the 
committee, caused by death, are instantly filled, and one 
year before the celebration of the Passion Play the choice 
by ballot is made first for him who is to represent the 
Christ, then the Apostles, and so on down to those who 
fill the meanest offices in the sacred drama, while the 
members of the committee themselves take the office of 
doorkeepers at the representations. 


Faithfully have these people kept the vow of their fore- 
fathers. At first the passion and death of Christ alone 
vi'ere pictured, a chorus at the same time describing the 
different scenes. In the early part of the present century 
many additions were made to the text by the officiating 
priest at Jesswang, Dr. Ottmar Weiss, so that the pro- 
phetic allusions to our Saviour contained in the Old Tes- 
tament should also be described, and thus prove to the 
enlightened spectator that the Scriptures have but one 
end, — Jesus Christ. The scenes from the Old Testament 
are represented by tableaux, those from the New Testa- 
ment are acted precisely as they happened. 

The musician, " Dedler," of Oberammergau, made 
valuable additions to the music. In the year i860 the 
text was further revised by the parish priest, Rev. Father 
Alvis Daisenberger, while in 1870 the instrumental music 
was greatly strengthened by the musical director, Karl 
Hum, of Landshut. 

I have gathered the above facts from the preface of 
the text-book of the Passion Play of 1870, in which the 
reason for the recent additions from the Old Testament 
are thus given : 

" As the life of Christ should always be repeated in 
the heart of the true believer, so also were His life and 
sufferings prefigured in the Old Testament. He is the 
Spiritual Sun, sending His rays backward as well as for- 
ward. Thus do the penitent Adam, the obedient Abra- 
ham, Isaac, Joseph, Job, David, Michael, Jonas, Daniel, 
and many others who suffered and struggled imperfectly 
in their persons, represent the temptation and sufferings 
of our Lord. 

" May the emblematic representation of His sublime 


virtue inspire both actors and spectators with the desire 
to follow Him in humility, patience, gentleness, and love. 
If that which is here represented become life and truth 
for us, then will the vow of our pious forefathers have 
accomplished its best fulfilment and our heads be covered 
with blessings like those which crowned their belief and 

With this translation from the simple text-book I close 
the account of the origin of the Passion Play. 

We entered the village about nine o'clock in the morn- 
ing of the 9th of July, having passed on our road great 
numbers of peasants in gay costumes, all bending their 
steps in the same direction. We had engaged no rooms, 
and found the village overflowing with strangers, but 
after unwearied effort on the part of some of the villagers 
to whom we had been recommended, we were comfortably 
established in the house of a peasant. Our bedroom 
was reached by a ladder placed behind a huge porcelain 
stove, which served as a banister. We entered through 
a trap-door, and there found four beds, two chairs, and 
a looking-glass. Everything about the house was scru- 
pulously clean. Our landlady waited upon us at dinner, 
and told us that she was a widow with two daughters, 
the younger one being a " Genius," or chorus-singer, 
in the great play. The elder daughter had formerly held 
this office, but she was now quite contented to be one 
of the " People" in the tableaux. 

Curiosity led us to the spot where the holy drama 
was to be acted, and we found there not a great building 
as we had supposed, but a high fence enclosing an area 
longer than wide, and capable of containing six thousand 
persons. One end of this area was covered with a roof, 


under which seats were placed for those of the audience 
who could not bear the sun's rays. In front of these, 
and corresponding to the parquet in one of our opera- 
houses, were seats without any cover; beyond them the 
orchestra was placed, and beyond it was the stage. In 
the middle of this stage was a space entirely enclosed 
with a curtain in front. This, to me, bore the appear- 
ance of a Corinthian temple. On each side of this were 
spaces representing the streets of Jerusalem running 
towards the extreme end of the area. The houses in 
these streets were painted, as are the scenes in any theatre, 
and corresponded in their style with the architecture 
of the enclosed space in the centre. The decorations 
were simple, the seats, wooden benches without backs, 
except in the centre of those under cover, where there 
were chairs intended for royalty. 

Having our curiosity gratified, we returned to the vil- 
lage to find fresh arrivals of gentry and peasantry. Some 
were engaged in washing their horses in the Ammer, a 
tiny stream which flows through the village. Later in 
the day a town-crier, preceded by a drummer, announced 
that the seats for the Sunday performance of the Play 
being all sold, it would be repeated on Monday to accom- 
modate the strangers in the village, who would otherwise 
be disappointed. 

At sunset a gun was first fired, which brought citizens 
and strangers to the main street, through which passed 
the orchestra for the next day. They played a few airs. 
Then all was quiet and the village was asleep. 

Daybreak was greeted by gun-fire, and almost before 
the echoes had died in the surrounding hills the village 
was again astir and hurrying to the church. We fol- 


lowed, and entered just as the celebration of mass had 
begun. Never can I forget that service. Priests were 
at each one of the five altars. It was impossible not to 
be awed by the devotion of that congregation of peasants, 
impossible not to feel that the Lord was " in the midst." 

When the mass was concluded the people passed into 
the graveyard, where many knelt beside the graves of 
their own kin, and some kissed the earth which covered 
them, while all left garlands and loose flowers above 
them. These were the people who took part that day 
in the play, and thus did they prepare themselves for 
the solemn service. After breakfast the spectacle in the 
street was curious indeed. The actors were seen hurry- 
ing to the theatre, some in helmets, some in crowns, and 
some in mitres, while under their arms they carried bun- 
dles, which we afterwards supposed had contained royal 
or priestly robes. 

At eight o'clock the audience had all assembled; a 
gun announced that all was ready, and the orchestra be- 
gan. Presently from doors at the sides of the larger 
stage the chorus came forth, — men and women, nineteen 
in all. Dressed in loose robes after the fashion of the 
ancient Greeks, they formed a line in front of the outer 
or larger stage. Their movements were so dignified 
that it was difficult to believe they were peasants, innocent 
of the ways of the outside world. The leader of the 
chorus began the prologue, which was simply in God's 
praise, then followed a chorus describing the coming 
tableau, then the line of singers divided and fell back 
on each side of the inner stage, the curtain rose, and 
Adam and Eve were seen leaving the garden of Eden. 
The pose of the figures was fine. Adam looked strong 


and defiant, but on Eve's fair face there was an expres- 
sion of sadness, as if she felt all future Eves would hear 
from all future Adams, " The woman tempted me and 
I did eat." The Destroying Angel held above them his 
flaming sword, and after three minutes the curtain fell. 
Then the singers again came forth, and described God's 
goodness in sending His Son into the world to wipe 
out all sin, and they retired. Then followed the first 
act of the greatest tragedy the world has ever known; 
few who witnessed it will ever forget it. The circum- 
stances and the place added to the solemnity of the scene. 
Behind the stage and in full view of the audience stood 
the everlasting hills. One might have thought them 
painted by some earthly hand save for the cattle grazing 
thereon and for the drifting clouds passing over their 
summits. Hosannas were heard from behind the scenes 
growing louder and louder, while forward through the 
streets of Jerusalem came a vast multitude casting their 
garments on the earth before the man Joseph Maier, 
who, meek and " sitting upon a colt, the foal of an ass," 
represented the Christ. As the people came forward they 

" All hail ! all hail ! to David's son, 
All hail ! all hail ! thy Father's throne 
Waits thee for endless days ; 
Before the world was made Thou art, 
Israel may play her cruel part, 
Thee will all Christians praise." 

Joseph Maier dismounted and stood in the midst of 
the people upon the green branches which had been strewn 
in his way. He was over six feet in height, and was 
dressed in a purple under-robe with a crimson gabardine. 
His hair, black and glossy, hung in curls upon his shoul- 


ders. The curtain of the inner stage then rose, disclosing 
a temple in which sat the " money-changers" and those 
who " sold doves." The eager greedy faces of those 
mercenary old men were in strong contrast with the 
calm, dignified expression which belonged to Joseph 
Maier. He stepped forward among them, overthrowing 
the tables and the " seats," saying, " My house shall be 
called a house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of 
thieves." The unholy traffickers looked amazed, while 
the doves, as if enjoying their liberty, flew over our 
heads. The curtain fell, the multitude again moved 
away, and the singers returned to describe the subject 
of the next tableau, which was " Joseph and his breth- 
ren." The brothers sitting together seem to say, " Be- 
hold, the dreamer cometh," while Joseph, ignorant of 
their jealousy, comes forward with outstretched arms 
as if to greet them. In this great drama the tableaux 
from the Old Testament are intended to prefigure the 
acts from the New Testament. It is scarcely necessary 
to say that the conspiring together of Joseph's brethren 
was typical of the next act, which was the gathering 
together of the high-priests and scribes seeking cause 
of complaint against Christ. Annas and Caiaphas pre- 
sided on high seats in the background. They were two 
grand-looking old men, with magnificent robes embroi- 
dered in divers colors intermixed with gold. The scribes 
and Pharisees were seated on lower seats, but to each 
and all was opportunity given to speak, so that no link 
in the chain of evidence against the Christ might be 
wanting. Some declared Him innocent of all the charges, 
and others guilty. The scene was spirited and interest- 
ing. Then came two tableaux from the Apocrypha, one 


representing the farewell of the young Tobias to his 
parents. There was nothing especially to recommend 
this tableau except a motionless dog, which many in 
the audience thought was stuffed, but which ran behind 
the scenes when the curtain fell. Curious to find why 
he had not stirred during the ceremony, I found that 
he had been trained by his master, who held a sausage 
behind the scene, which was to reward his perfect tran- 
quillity. The second Apocryphal tableau also possessed 
little merit, the subject was the bride lamenting the loss 
of the bridegroom. The singers described both and the 
bearing they held on the scenes which were to follow. 

The next scene represented Christ reaching Bethany 
and meeting His mother, Mary, and Martha. Mary 
anointed His feet and wiped them with the hair of her 
head. The disciples here bore a prominent part for the 
first time. Foremost among them stood Peter, a fine-look- 
ing man with gray beard and bald head ; he was dressed 
in an under-robe of blue with a gabardine of yellow. 

The youthful appearance of John with his blue eyes 
and fair hair made it easy to discover the " disciple 
whom Jesus loved." He wore a green under-robe and 
scarlet gabardine. Judas wore a yellow under-robe and 
orange-colored gabardine; his features were fine, but 
so completely had he thrown himself into the part as- 
signed to him that in the expression of his face love of 
money seemed clearly painted. His murmurs against 
Mary for her extravagance in the use of the ointment 
were earnest and prolonged. It is not necessary to de- 
scribe the rest of the disciples ; each one carried his staff 
and wore his sandals, and brought to the spectators a 
living representative of the followers of our Lord. 


The next tableau portrayed the wrath of the King 
Ahasuerus against Vashti. Then came the last journey 
of Christ to Jerusalem. His agony caused by the con- 
dition of the city was never more clearly set forth by 
any sermon than by the man Joseph Maier. The tone 
of his voice as he said, " O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which 
killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent unto 
thee, how often would I have gathered thy children 
together as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, 
and ye would not!" has rung in the ears of many of 
his hearers since then. There was no ranting, each one 
felt that the Scripture had been carefully studied and 
faithfully acted out when understood. 

Christ then sent Peter and John to prepare for Him 
the Passover. The scene between these two, and the 
boy filling his pitcher at the fountain, was beautiful in 
its simplicity, but the crowning part of the act was the 
soliloquy of Judas before he decided to betray his Mas- 
ter. He struggled weakly to do what was right and 
went to partake of the Last Supper, apparently not know- 
ing that he had decided upon his hideous part. His 
vacillating between the two paths open to him was so 
human, so true to life in these days, that it caused a 
double shudder, one for then and one for now. The 
singers then described the coming tableau, which was 
the finest of all, — " the children of Israel receiving the 
manna in the wilderness." When the curtain drew up, 
the stage was seen crowded to its uttermost. Men, 
women, and children gathered together to feed with 
thankful hearts upon heaven-sent food. Every face was 
upturned, but not a muscle moved, even in the smallest 
child in that crowd, as the manna showered over it. I 


need scarcely say that this picture is typical of Christ, 
heaven-sent, to be forever our spiritual food and suste- 
nance, but to me it brought another lesson, the faith 
with which these simple people looked to heaven. Then 
followed the Last Supper. I had been told that the table 
and the positions of Christ and His disciples had been 
taken from the great picture of Leonardo da Vinci in 
Milan. I have seen that picture and it is not so. The 
shape of the table was after a picture by Raphael in the 
gallery at Florence. In the picture by Leonardo da 
Vinci, Peter and John sit at the right hand of Christ; 
in the representation at Oberammergau, as in Raphael's 
picture, these disciples were on the left of their Master. 
The ceremony of the washing of the feet was done 
humbly, but with dignity, and when all were again seated 
at the table and John, leaning his sweet, anxious face 
on the bosom of his Lord, asked, scarcely above a whis- 
per, " Who shall betray thee ?" there were few in that 
audience who could keep back their tears. The bronzed 
face of many a man was covered with browner hands, 
while the women sat with streaming eyes. Then came 
the dipping of the sop and the hurried exit of Judas. 
Even his last look seemed uncertain, and natural in its 
uncertainty, for who can bear to think that in the pres- 
ence of that Master he could deliberately entertain the 
resolve, " Thy blood shall be upon my head" ? 

Then came the singers to announce as usual the theme 
of the tableau which was to follow, — " the selling of 
Joseph by his brethren to the Midianites." During this 
chorus the curtain rose. There were the brothers of 
Joseph gazing eagerly on their gain. The twenty pieces 
of silver lay on the stump of a tree. The curtain closed 



over this tableau, but the chorus remained and described 
in verses full of pathos that the fate of Joseph fore- 
shadowed that of Christ. When this was over the cur- 
tain again rose and we saw once more the Sanhedrim. 
Judas was there, no longer vacillating, but eager to 
clutch the reward of his infamy. The high-priests looked 
satisfied that they had found the betrayer, the money was 
counted out, and Judas left with two of the Jews to 
find Him whom he had once called Lord. 

This scene was followed by two tableaux. First, 
Adam digging in the earth, earning his food by the 
sweat of his brow; Eve, pale and worn, sat near him 
holding in her arms an infant which held in its hand 
a bright red apple; little half-clothed boys played beside 
her, the children of her sorrow. The infant was but 
eighteen months old, yet not a movement did it make, 
so well had it been trained to follow in the footsteps of 
its fathers. 

The second tableau was taken from the second book 
of Samuel, and describes Joab's treacherous kiss to 
Amasa. The greeting between these two men was ad- 
mirably portrayed. They stood in the midst of soldiers, 
Joab holding Amasa by the beard, his mouth touching 
his cheek, while his look of inquiry seemed to say, " Art 
thou in health, my brother?" The expression on Amasa's 
face showed clearly that the treachery was felt, the stab 

The next scene brought us to the Garden of Geth- 
semane ; Christ entered with His Apostles, leaving all in 
the background to sleep, except Peter, John, and James, 
who watch. Christ withdrew a little to pray ; when He 
returned He found them also sleeping. In tones ex- 


quisitely mournful, He said, " Could ye not watch one 
hour?" Again He retired to pray, His head in the 
dust; the angel came with the comforting chalice, and 
His bitter agony seemed over. His apostles still slept, 
but in the background were seen His pursuers, armed 
men with lantern-bearers, coming stealthily forward, 
headed by Judas, who, reaching his Master, gave Him 
the betraying kiss while the soldiers asked for the Christ. 
His clear distinct tones as He answers, " I am He," 
seemed to awe the men; they hesitated an instant and 
then bore Him away a prisoner to Annas. 

Thus ended the first act of the Play, and the audience 
were told there would be an intermission of an hour for 
rest and refreshment, it being then noon. The scene 
outside was curious indeed. Booths were scattered here 
and there in which were sold brown beer. All here re- 
freshed themselves quickly. In smaller sheds all sorts 
of crosses, images, beads, and photographs were ex- 
posed for sale, and many a long-hoarded kreutzer was 
drawn from the deep pockets of the peasant women 
and given in exchange for some trifle which would 
always bring to its purchaser the remembrance of that 

At one o'clock another gun announced the continuation 
of the Play, and the singers entered as before. The 
reader must bear in mind that tableaux and scenes were 
described throughout by these singers, sometimes by a 
solo, sometimes by a full chorus, and the reverence 
with which they performed their part was a lesson to 
us all. 

The first tableau of the second act represented Zede- 
kiah smiting the cheek of Macaiah because he wished 


to dissuade King Ahab from going to war with the 
Syrians. Then came the scene in the house of Annas. 
Judas arrived first and announced the success of his dis- 
graceful scheme. The high-priest showed his entire sat- 
isfaction and his appreciation of the services of Judas, 
in the prophetic words, " Thy name shall live forever." 
Then the prisoner appeared, bound ; He was questioned 
by Annas, at first refusing to answer. When at length 
He replied. He was smitten on the cheek by a servant 
for presuming to tell the high-priest He had preached 
and taught openly in temples and synagogues. Jesus 
received the blow meekly, and was forthwith sent before 
Caiaphas. Then we saw a tableau representing the 
stoning of Naboth the Jezulite, condemned by false wit- 
nesses through the fraud of the wicked Jezebel, the wife 
of King Ahab. This was followed by the scene in the 
hall of the high-priest when Christ is led before Caia- 
phas. The council of the false witnesses are assembled. 
Caiaphas looked majestic as he sat in his high seat, his 
mitred head covered by a canopy. Christ was brought 
in, witnesses perjured themselves, the books of the law 
were opened and read to show why sentence should be 
passed. Not one word was uttered in defence of the 
prisoner, who stood immovable until Caiaphas asked, 
"Art thou the Christ, the son of the Blessed?" Then 
He lifted up His head and said, " I am." 

Then followed the condemnation, the buffeting and 
blows dealt by the servants. Nothing was omitted that 
the history of nearly two thousand years ago might be 
conveyed to the spectator in all its ghastly truth. 

An inner curtain fell upon this scene, and Judas ap- 
peared in the torture of remorse and seeking to undo the 


evil he had done. He hurried to find Caiaphas to re- 
store the money that he might have the prisoner re- 

The scene then changed to the waiting-room outside 
of the high-priest's house. Soldiers were sitting around 
a fire cooking their food, when Peter entered and was 
accused by a maid-servant of being a follower of Christ. 
Thrice was his denial given and thrice the cock crowed, 
proving that the Peter of old time was not infallible. 
Jesus then passed, casting one long loving look on the 
apostle who had just denied Him. The scene which 
followed was most painful to witness. The Christ was 
blindfolded, struck and spit upon, those who gave the 
blows challenging Plim to identify His tormentors. 

Then followed a tableau, — " Cain standing over the 
dead body of his brother;" his attitude and the expres- 
sion of his face showed that his conscience was just 
aroused to a sense of his heinous guilt. This prefaced 
a scene in which Judas appeared before Caiaphas, the 
price of blood in his hand, his earnest prayer that his 
Master may be restored; His freedom is disregarded 
with scorn. Casting the money down before the high- 
priest, he left in agony. The betrayer was next seen 
before a blasted tree tearing off his girdle to hang him- 

The tableau which followed showed us the condemna- 
tion of Daniel by King Darius. Princes and councillors 
were there waiting for the sentence to be passed. The 
king seemed undecided, while Daniel was the only one 
apparently indifferent as to the result. 

This was a forerunner of Christ's appearance before 
Pilate. He came surrounded by helmeted guards, was 


led by them to a balcony in Pilate's house, and placed 
under a banner on which were embroidered the letters 
S. Q. O. R. Pilate was a very handsome man who had 
once represented the Christ. 

When Pilate found that the prisoner did not belong 
to his jurisdiction, but to Herod's, he dismissed Him 
to that king. The scene before Herod was heart-rending. 
The king in all his magnificence received the poor, weary 
captive, mocked Him, and laughed Him to scorn, while 
guards and attendants echo the laugh. The purple robe 
was put upon Him, the king giving Him a reed for a 
sceptre, and Christ is sent back to Pilate. A tableau 
next showed us Joseph's brethren exhibiting his bloody 
garments to their father. Then followed a tableau of 
the sacrifice of Isaac. Abraham is there wath knife up- 
lifted ready to do the will of God, the angel descends 
and stays his hand, and near by was the ram vainly 
trying to loosen his horns from the thicket. Then again 
we saw the Christ retracing His steps to Pilate. On 
the way His captors halt, fasten Him to a post, cover 
Him with a white robe, plait a crown of thorns and place 
it on His brow while the blood streams over his cheeks. 
He reaches Pilate, who vainly seeks a pretence to avoid 
the sentence for which the people were then clamoring. 
Barabbas was brought in, a sorry-looking soul, dressed 
in a tow garment, his feet bare and his matted hair 
hanging over his eyes. But it was not for the blood of 
Barabbas that the people thirsted, they cried aloud for 
his release, and when Pilate asked with regard to Christ, 
" What evil has He done ?" the cries of " Crucify Him ! 
crucify Him!" rent the air. The weak governor then 
washed his hands and broke his baton, endeavoring thus 


to show that he was not responsible, and dehvered the 
Christ to the rabble. 

Then followed the third act, described by the chorus 
as " the way of the cross." This opened with tableaux. 
First Isaac is seen carrying on his back the wood with 
which to build the fire on which he was to be sacrificed. 
This the chorus typified as Christ bearing His own cross. 
The lifting up of the brazen serpent in the wilderness 
was next before us. The children of Israel were first 
seen smitten with pain and disease, but the next tableau 
described the serpent already raised and the ills of Moses's 
followers cured through looking thereon. The change 
in the countenances of those who personated the chil- 
dren of Israel was most remarkable. In the first of 
these two pictures they seemed worn with suffering, 
in the second all traces of misery had passed from them. 
The chorus told us that this signified first the corruption 
of mankind through sin, and then the cleansing from all 
sin through looking to Christ. 

When the curtain again rose we saw Simon of Cyrene, 
who hearing a tumult from a side street halts, then we 
saw the procession escorting the Christ. The crowning 
act of ingratitude is about to be performed. In front 
of the shouting multitude rode a standard-bearer on a 
white horse, then followed a centurion with his armed 
band, and then the Christ tottering under the weight of 
the cross. Each painful step seemed to be His last. 
Simon of Cyrene is pressed by a soldier to assist Him, 
not, as it would seem, to lighten the suffering of the poor 
prisoner, but because they fear His life may end before 
the last torture in store for Him has been applied. This 
was a supreme moment. Up to this point I had closely 


watched the countenances of those near me, those of the 
peasantry especially interested me, but from this time 
forward few in that audience were conscious of the 
presence of others. Christ was before us in His hu- 
manity. No accessory was wanting to give reality to 
His suffering. Executioners were on each side of Him 
carrying their hammers, while other instruments of their 
cruel trade jingled in baskets by their sides. The thieves 
were there, not bearing their crosses as did Christ, but 
dragging them after them. When the procession met 
the women of Jerusalem who, with their children in their 
arms, wept for the suffering of the captive. He with 
faltering breath told them to weep for themselves, but 
not for Him. The crowd swept on, shouts of derision, 
from the same multitude who so lately sang Hosanna, 
rent the air and died away in the distant hills, while the 
mother of Christ, with John and Mary Magdalene, came 
forward to follow to His last suffering the loved Son 
and Friend, Then the curtain was lowered, the singers 
came forth In mourning robes, and the audience was 
addressed by their leader in the following touching pro- 
logue : " Up, pious souls, and go thrilling with pain and 
thankfulness with me to Golgotha and see what there 
happened to our Lord. There dies the Intercessor be- 
tween God and man. Stretched on the cross, with no 
covering but His wounds, listen to the wicked crowd 
scoffing Him and showing their revenge by mocking 
at His nakedness. I hear already the cracking of His 
joints as they are strained from the sockets. Whose 
heart Is not agonized at sound of the hammer as it 
drives the cruel nails through hands and feet, while 
He, the crucified, suffers and forgives." 


This was followed by a mournful hymn in the same 
strain, during which the dull sound of the hammer was 
distinctly heard from behind the curtain. The hymn 
ended. With solemn step and slow the singers retired, 
the curtain was drawn up, and we saw the two thieves 
tied to their crosses. In an instant the cross on which 
the Christ was stretched was raised and fixed securely 
at its base. The picture of that crowning act of mercy 
was there before us in all its majesty, reminding one 
of Albrecht Diirer's painting, but here all were living, 
speaking figures. On a board at the head of the cross 
was printed in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, " Jesus of 
Nazareth, King of the Jews." 

Not one fact of all that sacred history was omitted. 
His garments were parted just in front of the cross, 
while the rattle of the dice, as the soldiers cast lots for 
His raiment, added horror to a history which often as 
I had studied and heard it read, I had never until then 
fully appreciated. It was left for those unlettered peas- 
ants to show me how to read the history of our Lord's 

Then rang out the cry of the thief on the left, " If Thou 
be the Christ, save Thyself and us." Then came the 
reproachful answer from the thief on the right, his hum- 
ble prayer, and the comforting assurance that his peni- 
tence and faith would be rewarded. 

Then the sacred trust committed to John, and the 
legacy to Plis mother of His best-beloved disciple; the 
mocking laugh of the bystanders, the summons to come 
down from the cross, the bitter quenching of that cruel 
thirst, and the cup of anguish, " My God, my God, why 
hast Thou forsaken Me?" All were given, not with the 


precision of play actors, but with thrilling tones as if 
the words were uttered there for the first time. 

Then came the last cry of agony, and all was over. 

Immediately there was a sound of mighty thunder, 
and a frightened servant came rushing in to tell the 
astonished bystanders that the veil of the temple was 
rent in twain. The legs of the thieves were then appar- 
ently broken, the india-rubber clubs which were used 
for this purpose producing the effect desired. The spear- 
thrust was given, and the blood poured out. 

Then followed the descent from the cross. This 
seemed to me to be a copy of a picture by Cigoli, formerly 
the property of the monastery at Empoli, but given up 
by the Brothers of that institution to Duke Cosmo III. 
in 1689. 

A ladder was placed behind the cross, which Joseph 
of Arimathea ascended; after taking the thorns from 
the bloody brow, he seemed to remove the nails from 
the hands, but in reality took away the invisible iron 
clamps which bound the body by the waist to the cross. 
Then a wide linen bandage was unrolled and passed 
up under the arms, and while Joseph of Arimathea ten- 
derly supported the body, Nicodemus loosed the clamps 
from the feet, and he and John received the Crucified 
and placed Him in a half-sitting posture in the arms of 
His mother. I was told afterwards that the descent from 
the cross was managed very carefully to guard against 
congestion of the lungs, from which Joseph Maier had 
suffered when a youth, but the prevailing opinion among 
the peasantry was that no harm could come to him while 
performing this righteous ceremony, even though the 
body should be strained (as it was) for two-and-twenty 


minutes on the cross with no other support than the 
clamps and bands and a small strip of board against 
which his feet rested. After the body was anointed it 
was carried away and two tableaux followed. 

First Jonah coming forth from the whale, typifying, 
I need scarcely say, the resurrection of our Lord; then 
the passage of the children of Israel through the Red 
Sea while their enemies perish. The scene next opened 
on the sepulchre and the sleeping sentinels. The women 
enter, and finding the tomb empty call the two disciples; 
all are reassured by the presence of an angel, and finally 
comforted by the appearance of the risen Lord. 

Then followed the Ascension, which was far behind 
the other scenes in dignity and beauty. This had been 
added to the Play a short time before 1870, and I would 
give those of my readers who may visit Oberammergau 
for the Miracle Play the advice which Nora in " Quits" 
gives her readers, and which I myself took when I re- 
turned to see it in 1880. Leave the building before the 
Ascension, and return to listen to the chorus which fol- 
lows and closes the whole, for it was the finest of all. 

The reader may accuse the writer of many faults, but 
if one of these be that I have described perfection, I 
will add a few particulars in which the representation 
falls short. The angels were all poor representatives 
of the winged beings whom each one pictures to him- 
self, and being a woman I regret to say that the women 
failed to throw themselves into their parts as completely 
as did the men. These were the only faults I saw; 
though I did not go to " scoff" I expected to criticise 
severely. Instead, I stayed to " pray," and came away 
impressed most solemnly. 


We were to leave Oberammergau the next morning 
for Walchensee, a village in the Bavarian highlands, but 
before we left I was anxious to see and speak with the 
man Joseph Maier, who had so admirably performed his 
part in the sacred drama. We reached his pretty home 
before six in the morning. He was sitting reading, his 
wife dressing her baby. When we entered he rose, put 
on his coat, and welcomed us. Nelly told him we were 
grateful to him for all we had enjoyed in Oberammer- 
gau; he answered, "I am happy." There was no con- 
ceit in his manner. He stood before us a perfect speci- 
men of a man. Six feet in height and admirably 
proportioned, his black eyes looked kindly upon us, his 
blue-black hair curling on his shoulders. 

We reached Walchensee, a village consisting of a few 
scattered houses and a " post inn" on the borders of the 
lake, which is surrounded by mountains. We took one 
mountain walk of four hours to reach the top, where 
the view was very fine. There was romance for the 
others in this walk, for we met hunters with bare knees, 
tall hats, and rifles in their hands, and it was pleasant 
to drink milk out of an earthen bowl in the hut of the 
" senner," but as I hold in mortal terror a rifle, and 
dislike to meet a herd of cows on a narrow pathway 
when either cows or women must give way, and feeling 
that the cows being armed with horns had the advantage, 
I mentally resolved not to climb again, little dreaming 
that no opportunity would be given me to do so. 

The dining-room at the inn was the guest-chamber of 
the house. Eighteen feet square, with a sanded floor, 
and walls so thick that there were very deep window- 
seats, on which were placed pots of ivy, which grew all 


over the walls of the room, and on eight large antlers, 
some so splendid that they reached nearly to the ceiling; 
the ivy twining about them seemed to say, " Keep my 
memory green." The guests at the table of the inn 
interested us much. There was a Herr Professor with 
his wife from Munich, the king's forester, an Italian 
count with bandy legs, and a youth who was learning 
to be a forester, and who walked past our windows 
twenty times a day with his rifle on his back, but with 
no deer! The parish priest, who lived across the lake, 
came daily to take his glass of beer in the arbor of the 
inn, but never spoke to us. One day I sent him a plate 
of strawberries, hoping to conciliate him, but he sent 
them back, after expressing his holy horror at taking 
strawberries with beer; still, his lips were opened to 
us ever after, and we were satisfied. 

The village church is several hundred years old, with 
a graveyard so small and crowded that when a new grave 
was made an old skull was dug up. These skulls were 
placed in niches and on the window-sills of the church, 
some whitewashed and some pinkwashed. In spite of 
this, the graveyard remained tiny, thus forcing one to 
the conclusion that people like the prospect of having 
a white- or pinkwashed skull for future generations to 
gaze upon. There were sundry zithers among the peas- 
antry. The son of our laundress played for us several 
times, because our laundress was a daily friend and 
helper, we having left our trunks at Weilheim and keep- 
ing by us only what are now called " grip-sacks." 

On Monday, July 18, a telegram was brought to me 
from Baron Edward von der Heydt, which ran thus : 
" Alice must come home, war is declared ; Hugo and 


Leonard must go, and we fear the roads will be cut." 
This was a heavy blow to us all. Shut up in the moun- 
tains, we had not dreamed of war, and now we must go 
at once. The telegram, which came by the post-coach, 
had been on its way from Berlin from the Friday before. 
The post-coach could not wait for us, so we engaged a 
carriage, and before leaving I made an attack upon the 
Italian count in French. I asked him between what 
nations war was declared. He told me, and added that 
he should at once return to Italy, as he feared she might 
be involved. 

Thus was the Franco-German War declared to us, 
rousing us out of a peace as profound as any I had ever 
known. In one-half hour we were on the way to Penz- 
berg, and then came a sad parting from our dear Alice. 
She left us to catch a train for Berlin, while we went 
to Weilheim, secured the trunks, and went to Munich 
to pass the night. 

When we arrived in Munich, we learned that the 
whole country had risen, and hoped to wipe out some of 
the indignities which had been heaped upon Germany by 
Napoleon Bonaparte, by making his nephew, Louis Na- 
poleon, " eat dust," as the Germans expressed it. Bands 
of music were in the streets and in all public places 
playing national airs. Men who had followed the plough 
a few days before were then in their uniforms and mount- 
ing guard, as if they had never done anything else in 
their lives. We were sufficiently German to sympathize 
heartily in this outburst of feeling against the French 
emperor, and my only regret was that I could not return 
to Berlin at that time, but the fear that I might hinder 
instead of helping those whom I loved so tenderly de- 


terred me, and after a sleepless night I determined to 
go to Switzerland. 

We were much delayed on the road. Trains carrying 
supplies to head-quarters had, of course, the right of 
way, and we were often side-tracked. We saw many 
Americans fleeing, each anxious to give that most pain- 
ful thing to accept, "advice;" and then came different 
propositions as to my future career. 

One weak-minded old man told me not to go near the 
frontier, but I told him I had already chalked out my 
route and was on my way to Zurich. He then asked 
me if I had money enough to go farther, to which I 
quietly answered, " I shall draw money in Zurich." 
Whereupon he said, with much emotion, " You do not 
seem alarmed. I have told you the bankers will refuse 
you money in Switzerland. I pawned my wife's dia- 
monds to reach Zurich; have you diamonds?" I told 
him " No." 

I was very thankful when we reached the steamer 
on Lake Constance. Part of my anxiety left me, and 
I was amused by my fellow-passengers. There were 
French and Germans looking daggers at each other, and 
each saying insulting things intended for the ears of 
their opponents, which were not understood by them. 
At Zurich, I apologized to the banker for asking for 
money, but he assured me that I could have any sum I 
might ask for, thus proving that the American " Baron 
Munchausen" had led me into error. I bought my 
tickets for Geneva, and was glad I had done so, for 
the flying Americans we met had bought their railroad 
tickets to other points which were not then accessible. 
The terror of the travellers from all nations only added 


to my own anxiety, and the face of an old Englishman, 
who told me that he had lost all his " luggage" and had 
never been so placed in his life, is before me now. 
When we first saw him he was struggling to speak to 
the keeper of the restaurant, a woman, in one of the 
railroad stations. He said, " Wo unser baggagee." The 
poor woman looked at him and shook her head. I sent 
Nelly to the rescue to ask him what he wished for. She 
found his luggage and he was grateful, and in thus 
helping him my own burden seemed lighter. The fact 
that all Germany was aroused and meaning to do the 
best was also encouraging to us. In our journey through 
Bavaria we had seen her sons, by one, by two, by three, 
crossing the fields with their bundles on their shoulders, 
their military caps on their heads, going not cheerfully, 
but calmly, to perform their duty. We heard no shout- 
ing, but saw many an earnest look and heard many a 
sad farewell. 

We reached Geneva safely. Our stay there was only 
long enough to rest, and we then went to Glion, a country 
village above Montreux, and to the Hotel de Glion, a 
small pension, where there were already fourteen boarders 
in the house. Two Swedes, one Hollander, one Prussian, 
one South German, one Englishwoman, one French lady 
with a young Polish girl under her care, the Countess 

The discussion of the political situation was inevitable. 
All spoke French at the table. The Dutchman, when 
he found I was on the side of Germany, assured me that 
Germany was not ready for war, and that the success 
of France was inevitable. 

Meanwhile, my girls knitted socks and sent them to 


the German hospitals, and finally they persuaded me to 
knit also. My stocking was begun, and in great tribu- 
lation completed. I knew nothing of the art of knitting, 
and when they proposed to set up a second sock I de- 
clined, preferring to send mine to a one-legged man. 
The Polish girl interested us much, her friend and gov- 
erness also. The history they gave us of their trials in 
Poland made me ill, but the daily discussion about the 
war revived me! The poor Hollander began to lose 
faith in Louis Napoleon and to call Count Bismarck " un 
voleur." On August 8 we heard that Paris was in a state 
of siege. This news met us as we were coming out 
of church, and an Englishman, as I thought, sidled up 
to me rubbing his hands. I asked him what would be- 
come of Louis Napoleon. His answer was, " We will 
send him over the Channel to you," and after a few 
words we discovered we were fellow-countrymen ! 

The hours and days we had passed before August 8 
seemed intolerably long. None of the inmates of the 
house interested me except the young Polish countess, 
Marie Ledochowska, and her governess. Mademoiselle 
Gajitti. My girls and Marie were the only young peo- 
ple in the house, and naturally amused themselves 
together, while mademoiselle gave me the history of 
the young girl whose governess she had been for nine 

Before her birth her father, Count Ledochowska, was 
banished to Siberia, her mother went to St. Petersburg 
and implored his pardon, which the emperor refused. 
She then followed her husband with her two daughters, 
and Marie was born. After two years the count was 
pardoned, but his wife died before they were allowed 



to return to their home. One of the daughters mar- 
ried at home, but the rigor of the cUmate of Siberia had 
seriously impaired the health of the younger girls and 
they were ordered to the south of Europe. The rule 
of the Russian government forbade minors to leave 
Poland, and after many months and much entreaty they 
received their passports. They then could not use them, 
for the eldest of the little girls was at the point of death. 
After her death Mademoiselle Gajitti brought Marie to 
Switzerland just as the German and French War began. 
Neither of our new-found friends could speak one word 
of English, and the alarm that Marie felt when she was 
told that the German army was successfully advancing 
was pitiable. " Then Italy will be involved and what will 
become of our Pope?" was the anxious inquiry of this 
poor girl. She had hoped that if France were victorious, 
Russia would come to help Prussia and Poland would 
" rise." On the 9th of August we saw in the Geneva 
paper the proclamation of the Empress of France, which 
ran thus : 

" Frenchmen: 

"The outlook of the war is not favorable to us. Our armies 
have met with a repulse. Let us be firm in this reverse and hasten 
to repair it. 

" Let there be but one side among us, that of France ; one flag, 
that of our national honor. 

" I am with you all, faithful to my mission and to my duty ; you 
will see me face any and every danger to defend the flag of France. 

" I entreat all good citizens to maintain order. To disturb it 
would be to conspire with our enemies. 

(Signed) " The Empress (Regent). 

" Eugenie. 
" Palace of the Tuileries, 
August 7." 


I felt sympathy for the first time for the Hollander; 
when this was read aloud, his agony was great when he 
said that Bismarck would take Holland as he would 
" un gateau," he who a week before was rejoicing 
in anticipation that Prussia would be the " fool of his- 

The population in our pension changed much about 
this time. Our Hollander left us, and the lady from 
Hanover rejoiced in his absence, though she said not 
one word to wound either mademoiselle or Marie. We 
all worked together for the international hospitals. Still, 
I was terribly anxious. We heard nothing of those 
whom we loved in the German army. At last came a 
letter which told us that Hugo von Winterfeldt and 
Leonard von Renthe (the husbands of our cousins) were 
safe, and that Talbot was in a hospital, having been 
thrown from his horse; but out of three thousand men 
who left Berlin, in his regiment, only two officers and 
ninety men had survived " Metz." 

When the news came that McMahon had surrendered 
and the emperor was a prisoner, we did not believe it, 
but Mr. Lombard, the banker from Geneva, came with 
his daughters for a day or two, confirmed the news, and 
told us the French had failed through three causes : First, 
they were conceited and boastful ; secondly, the officers 
were not properly educated to do military duty; they 
lived about the court in idleness and dissipation, never 
thinking that the knowledge of military affairs could be 
derived from books ; thirdly, that the appropriation made 
from time to time for the uses of the army had been used 
in other directions. 

I was sorry to hear all this, for France had helped us 


in our hour of trial, and I felt that ruin had come to 
her people through usurpers. Then we read the tele- 
gram sent by the king, William, to his queen, Augusta. 

I here translate it: 

" Sedan, September 2. 

"A capitulation has just been concluded with General Wimpfen, 
through which all the army in Sedan has surrendered, prisoners of 
war. General Wimpfen is in command of the French army, re- 
placing Marshal McMahon, who is wounded. The emperor being 
no longer in command has surrendered personally to me, and aban- 
dons the government of France to the regency of Paris. I shall 
designate the place of his future residence as soon as I have the 
interview with him, which is to take place immediately. What an 
event brought about by the decree of Providence ! 

(Signed) "William." 

Then came an account of the French emperor driving 
in an open barouche to meet the king (smoking as he 
went). All this is history, but it was terrible to live 
through it, even for me, a stranger. 

The appeal of the Countess Gasparin came next in 
the Geneva papers, I record it, hoping that its earnest 
words may animate the women of my own country to 
take greater interest in our political affairs, that they 
may by their example and influence help our politicians 
to honest dealing, which seems now to be greatly lack- 

" To THE Women of France and Germany : 

" The least known among your sisters cries out to you. Your 
patriotic tenderness has soothed thousands of wounded soldiers. 
We can perhaps do better than this. Let us rise up and throw our 
hearts and our prayers between the two nations who seek to destroy 
one another. Antiquity shows us pagan women who with out- 
stretched arms have separated combatants. Shall we Christian 
women do less? Let there be no more massacres, no more muti- 
lated bodies, no more broken hearts, no more useless generations. 


The earth is drunk with the blood of our sons. Women of all 
countries, let us shake hands across the frontiers. Let us try to 
arouse love in the nations who would destroy, but who do not hate 
each other. If we, mothers, wives, sweethearts, and sisters of 
Germany and France, desire peace, peace will be made. In the name 
of God, let us rise up. Let us unite, and let us win this battle. 
This will be the supreme victory for 1870. 


We could not help noticing the difference between the 
appeal from the Empress Eugenie and these agonized 
words from the countess. We said but little, for any 
discussion disturbed Marie. She grieved that she had 
no chapel near at hand where she might pray daily for 
the success of the French. We offered our prayers 
every Sunday in the English chapel, and at first I felt 
sorry not to hear a prayer for our President, but the 
curate in charge, after a few Sundays, learned that there 
were Americans in the congregation, and offered a peti- 
tion in the Litany for our President just after the peti- 
tion for the Queen. To my surprise the response from 
the congregation was feeble, but the next Sunday the 
petition for the President of the United States was in- 
serted not only after the one for the nobility, but after 
the one for the magistrates, and our President, being in 
the eyes of the English gentry in his proper place, the 
response was loud and earnest! 

Still the war went on, and the news came that the 
Italian troops had occupied the Papal dominions, and 
so the temporal power of the Pope was shaken. A rumor 
came that our government had telegraphed Mr. Ban- 
croft, requesting him to mention to the German govern- 
ment that as the King of Prussia had said he only made 
war against the Emperor of the French and not against 


the nation, he should then desist. Louis Napoleon, it 
is true, was then settled in Cassel with the " chef" of 
Queen Augusta to give him an appetite ! After destroy- 
ing a nation, I should think he could never have eaten 

We read with pain the account of the burial of the 
dead the day after " Metz." One vast grave was dug, 
and the bodies of both French and Germans were brought 
to it at dusk. While they were being reverently placed 
in the grave the bands played " Jesus, Thou Blessed 
Light." After the earth was covered over the men stood 
around and sang " Heilige Nacht." Choked were many 
voices, but still they sang of that night which brought 
" Peace on earth and good-will to men." 

The grapes were ripe in the middle of September, and 
many strangers filled our little pension. An American 
geologist and his wife came. My joy was great at see- 
ing and hearing my own people once more. The wife 
not being strong did not come to breakfast, and I offered 
to help the geologist, but he thought he would see what 
he could do alone in giving an order, and thus addressed 
the waiter, " Gargon, deux oeufs a la coq., mais tres 
peu coque." The poor " gargon" had to ask an explana- 
tion. I turned gladly from the memories of the war to 
anything that amused us then. 

One day Marie came running in to tell me that she 
had seen the " Diacre Anglais" on a horse, with a long- 
tailed coat and a black cravat on, and she thought such 
a costume out of place for a " Diacre Anglais." Her 
governess asked her whether their household Dominican 
friar did not follow the chase in Poland in a round 
jacket. We all point out in other religious faiths the 


same faults which we will find in our own, if we look for 

Our house was again full of boarders of different 
nationalities, and again came all sorts of questions as 
to the inhabitants of our own country, whether of man- 
kind or of the reptile species. After asking me whether 
I had ever seen a rattlesnake, a lady who looked at me 
with an incredulous smile when I answered " No," said, 
" A friend of mine has bought an island in one of the 
rivers of Florida, and means to plant there, but he found 
it so full of rattlesnakes that he has returned to Switzer- 
land for hands and chemicals to destroy the snakes be- 
fore he begins to plant." I was much amused, and 
longed for the power to sketch this pioneer among rattle- 
snakes, sitting in a boat, squirting chemicals to destroy 
the first settlers on his island. 

The war went on. We were still most anxious and 
I unhappy, because I thought of the poor women whom 
I had seen in the palmy days of Paris haggling with the 
butchers about the price of spoiled meat, and wondered 
what they had to eat. I had thought then of the con- 
trast between their homes and the arches and palaces 
on which I had seen carved in stone the letters " L. N." 
That monogram is now no longer seen in Paris, but 
I fear that it is found still on many a stony heart 
left behind in this world after those terrible days of 

The country where we were looked lovely. All nature 
seemed preparing for the winter. The cows were being 
driven to lower pasturage, the nuts were all gathered 
and put to dry preparatory to being turned into salad 
oil! the faulty ones being converted into lamp oil. The 


thrift of those people I shall never forget, but I have 
never followed it. 

I looked at the mountains about me, which brought 
back to me many a sad thought, and yet I felt grieved 
that I should not see the spring open upon them. They 
were donning their white shrouds and we must go where 
my girls could study, though not one moment had been 
lost in Glion, and they spoke French, as dear Made- 
moiselle Gajitti said, " extremely well." 

We were grieved to leave Marie and her good friend, 
but our plans were decided, and we went over the Sim- 
plon to Italy. I chose that route on the score of econ- 
omy, but the journey was terrible. We were on run- 
ners, for the snow was deep, the driver was poor, the 
horses poorer, and the harness poorest, and in many 
places it had been mended with rope or twine. I felt 
as if there was nothing between us and destruction but 
a rotten cord. The sight of the Italian peasants was 
a glad one to my eyes. We had left the snow and dan- 
ger far behind us, and could admire the women peasants 
walking in droves with their heads erect, and carrying 
on them bundles of dried leaves. They looked so warm 
and so happy, and they opened such beautiful eyes upon 
us, that I envied them. The custom-house officer at this 
frontier delighted me. He opened one of my trunks, 
spied a small American flag therein, and clasping it 
in his hands, said, " America la liberta." Wishing to 
return this compliment, I said, " Italia ! Roma ! Fe- 
licita !" He then asked me whether I spoke French, 
and we entered into a long and animated conversation 
on the subject of the condition of Italy. I found he 
was as glad as I that the Pope had lost his temporal 


power. Before we left, he came to the window of the 
dihgence to tell me that if I would come out of Italy 
by the Simplon I should have every accommodation ex- 
tended to me by his bureau. I thanked him, but thought 
I would rather walk than leave Italy by the Simplon, 
so great had been my terror during the journey. 

After a delightful moonlight drive along Lake Mag- 
giore we reached Arona at midnight, and pushed on at 
once, stopping one day at Milan and one day in Parma, 
where I wanted my girls to see the Corregio frescos, 
which had so delighted me in the spring. We found 
the Diana over the mantel-piece just as Sydney and I 
had left her. Her eyes seemed to ask me what I had 
done with my spring-time companion. I could have an- 
swered as the trees in autumn answer for their spring- 
time leaves. We had an addition to our party in cross- 
ing the Simplon, Mrs. Schaffer and her children, and 
being determined to secure a railway carriage for our 
party when we left Milan, I asked my children to strug- 
gle with our small parcels and addressed the train con- 
ductor in my best Italian. The rest of the party followed, 
and in their wake was a young man whom I thought 
an Italian. He shoved himself into the car, and Nelly 
called out, " This horrid Italian is crowding in !" After 
we were all seated, we commented on the incivility of 
men, especially of this Italian. After a few minutes 
he stood up and, bowing low, said, " Madam, I regret 
my manner does not please you. I desired to travel 
with you because I thought you would be charming 
companions. If my eagerness has offended, I will leave 
the carriage at the first stop, but I desire to tell you, I 
am an Englishman." We asked his pardon for taking 


him for an Italian, and begged him not to leave the 
carriage. He consented, and proved a valuable assistant 
to us all. When we came near Parma, he advised us 
all to speak German v^hen we reached the hotel ; and told 
us that the Italians charged Germans about one-half 
what they did Americans. He went to the same hotel 
with us ; we found ourselves well provided for, and when 
our bills were presented, they amounted to one-half the 
sum we had expected. The name of our new-found 
friend was " Randal," and so kind was he that we saw 
all the sights of Parma for eighty centimes apiece. He 
had lived in Italy two years, was an Oxford graduate, 
had a fellowship, and was then living in Siena. 

When we came to the theatre in Parma, he jumped 
upon the stage and took the parts of Portia, Hamlet, and 
Richard III. successfully, and so full of pathos and pas- 
sion was his manner that I said, " Your place is the 
stage." I know not where he has acted his part in life, 
but when he bade us farewell, I sang to him the first 
verse of a very old-time English song, beginning, — 

" Oh ! where are you going, Lord Randal, my son, 
And where are you going, my handsome young man?" 

He came to see us once in Florence, but we were out, 
and he was, and is, like a ship we signal in the voyage 
of life and then pass on. 

Our friends the Miss Horners had secured an apartment 
for us in Florence, and when we reached the station at 
midnight we found our landlord, " Pietro," waiting for 
us. He was to be our man-servant and cook. Our 
rooms were most comfortable and everything went well. 
Pietro provided our meals for us and brought the weekly 


bills, which Joanna Horner told me must never exceed 
fifty francs a week for all our food. We paid at the 
rate of three hundred dollars a year for this apartment, 
Pietro's services, and a maid who came to us twice a 
day. We never were so entirely comfortable at so small 
an expense. 

We were barely installed when sad news came to us. 
Leonhardt von Renthe was killed in the storming of 
Le Bourget. We were, indeed, grieved. A noble life 
ended in youth. I cannot dwell upon the sorrow which 
came to all our dear cousins through this calamity. The 
fate of our cousin Hugo von Winterfeldt was different. 
He had had a brilliant career, having been promoted to 
a majority and to be a " flugel adjutant" to the then 
crown prince, " Unser Fritz." After the negotiations 
were completed between the two governments, he was the 
officer chosen to escort Jules Favre and M. Thiers back 
to Paris. 



Our busy life in Florence then began. The girls had 
lessons, and we went daily to visit churches and galleries, 
to our great profit and pleasure. I hope all those whom 
I love will see the things that we saw. Some things they 
cannot see or hear, and those I shall tell of. The first 
thing that startled me was hearing of the death in Flor- 
ence of an Indian prince. A petition was instantly made 
to the authorities of the city for permission to destroy 
his body according to the rites of his religion. This 
was granted, and his body was carried in the dead of 
night in an omnibus to the Cascine. It rested on the 
knees of six of his attendants, dressed in all the lace and 
jewels of which he had been possessed, including a neck- 
lace of pearls worth ten thousand dollars. The body was 
placed on a pile of wood six feet long (previously built), 
covered with more wood, and the whole burned. The 
ashes were then gathered, placed in an urn, which was 
sealed up and carried to India to be thrown into the 
Ganges. I very much doubt whether the ashes of the 
pearls are now reposing in the Ganges. 

We made new friends at almost every turn, but we 
did not forget the old ones. About this time I had a 
letter from Frau von Ranke, which ran thus : 

" December 9, 1870. 
" My dear Mrs. Gillespie : 

"Looking at the date of your last letter, I reproach niA'self greatly 
for not having answered it sooner, particularly as I do not exactly 


know where now to address you, but you would excuse me if you 
knew how anxiously I took possession of every kind hand to write 
to dear Fried or to beg, for since the beginning of the war, not 
being able to do anything myself, I could only fulfil the part of the 
lowest member in society, and begged of all my friends in England 
and Ireland to take compassion on my helplessness and to afford 
me the means of contributing help to the sick and wounded, as 
well as to the soldiers, by giving them clothes, etc., and they 
answered my appeal so generously that I have scarcely ever gone 
out without a basketful of things for some lazaret or other, and 
have been able almost every day to forward a bundle of Liebes- 
gaben to Fried or some one else, and this has employed me and 
turned my thoughts from the great anxieties of the war. 

" Thank God, Fried is safe ; he was for a month engaged in 
the parallels before Strasburg, corfstantly exposed to the fire of 
the cannons, but when it capitulated he was ordered with his regi- 
ment, ' Garde Landwehr Grenadier,' towards Paris, and has been 
stationed at St. Germain for the last month, where in vain he has 
been expecting an outbreak of the Parisians or a fight ; but, thank 
God, all his ambition has been disappointed. I hope and trust peace 
is not far distant. O that the poor French could be induced to 
surrender themselves without more bloodshed ! Had they been as 
stanch at the beginning as they are now at the end of the war, they 
would have afforded the Prussians more trouble. But now tliey 
hug their old idle glory to their hearts when it is too late for them 
to succeed. They only augment their own misery by striving to 
fight in their hour of starvation. Poor people, I feel for them. 
They are certainly the cleverest people in the world, and give the 
general tone to it in outward things. But this hard lesson of 
humiliation will, I trust in God, be of great use to them, and I 
feel sure they will rise regenerated from their sufferings as they did 
after the Reign of Terror. 

"How do you like the idea of our king being emperor? It 
pleases me very much, but the conservatives of Prussians do not 
like to share their brave old king with any one else, and would like 
to keep him quite for themselves. T am glad to hear such good 
accounts of you and your girls. I am sorry I must conclude my 
letter hurriedly, we have been interrupted. 

" Believe me ever your affectionate friend. 

" Clara von Ranke. 

" I shall never forget you." 


I copy this in full because, as the reader may remem- 
ber, the one from whom the letter came had been for 
more than twenty years motionless, and it gives a lesson 
to all of us who are restive or impatient under any 
restriction. Her keen interest in this world and her 
perfect trust in the goodness of God teach us much, for 
" example is better than precept." 

Life passed on most pleasantly and profitably for us 
all. The next important public event was the arrival 
of the Spanish ambassadors, who came to announce the 
election of the Due d'Aosta to the throne of Spain. For 
many days before the whole city was preparing to put 
Florence in gala array. All along the sunny side of 
the Arno tall poles were raised about thirty feet apart, and 
on top of each pole floated the Italian and Spanish flags. 
Thick wreaths of laurel were then attached and festooned 
down to the gas-lamps. Large pedestals were placed in 
the streets, on which were bouquets of immortelles col- 
ored with the Spanish colors, and between these pedes- 
tals were rows of orange- and myrtle-trees. The Span- 
ish embassy were to stay at the Hotel Arno, and we were 
invited by our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Cady Eaton, to see 
their arrival. All the military were out and formed 
in lines, through which the carriages containing the dig- 
nitaries passed. The bands played the Spanish national 
air as the carriages reached them severally, and the whole 
of the court carriages, thirteen in number, had been sent 
to convey the ambassadors to their quarters. I confess 
I was disappointed in the appearance of the ambassa- 
dors. Black velvet suits, with point-lace collars and 
sleeve ruffles and black plumes, there were none. Richly 
embroidered coat-collars and cuffs, cocked hats and white 


kid gloves, there were. The ambassadors were gentle- 
manly looking men. The crowd in the large " Piazza" 
was enormous ; I watched the faces of these the populace, 
and I felt sad and ready to cry, though then I did not 
dream that the reign of the Due d'Aosta would so soon 
be over, and that farther on in time the lord high admiral 
of Spain would be a prisoner of war in my own land. 
After the deputation was housed they appeared on the 
balcony and cheered for the King of Italy. The crowd 
responding, cheered for the King of Spain. It was all 
fine and stirring, but my thoughts wandered, not unnatu- 
rally, to a woman, " Isabella of Spain," and I wondered 
how she would have felt if she could have heard those 
cries and have looked as I did on the heads of the nobles 
of her land, many of them white with age, and have felt 
that they had come to carry a young stranger to her 

The hotel was most beautifully decorated with green- 
house plants and flags flying in every direction. As we 
left, we met on the stairway several of the dignitaries. 
Off went their cocked hats nearly to our feet, and I should 
have desired to cultivate a friendship with them if I could 
have shaken off the thought of bull-fights. The next 
morning we saw the Court carriages on their way to 
convey the ambassadors to the palace. The footmen, 
three behind each carriage, were in scarlet livery with 
powdered wigs. Four gentlemen in crimson velvet robes 
carried silver vases on long poles. Within the vases 
(which were sealed) were the votes which made the 
Due d'Aosta king. On the next evening we went to the 
theatre to a grand performance given to the strangers. 
We saw them again, and this time accompanied by their 


new king, Ristori was the actress. She gave one act 
of " Marie Stuart" and also some passages of Schiller's 
"Farewell of Joan of Arc" (translated into Spanish), 
and it was most admirably done. The Spanish Hymn 
was the music of the evening, and so ended this chapter 
of history, so far as we had part, in the sights in Flor- 

My niece had begun to take singing lessons from an 
Italian master who was in high repute in Florence, and 
knowing that the great artist Hans von Bulow was then 
there, I proposed to place my daughter under his care 
for lessons on the piano. My friends assured me he 
would not take her without hearing her play, and I trem- 
bled for her chance of securing the great teacher. We 
went to see him. He told us he would come to see us 
shortly. He came, asked to look at the music she was 
studying, named the hours once a week for her lessons, 
and left us. I went to his room with her, and the les- 
sons were a success. He took infinite pains, placing her 
for practice with an advanced pupil of his own, and I 
knew we found favor in his eyes, for when the lessons 
ended one day he asked whether we would like to see 
his cats. We said, "Yes, gladly; we love cats." He 
brought out a quantity of food on a plate, opened the 
window into his garden, and called us to look. Four- 
teen cats were assembled there and the food given them. 
" This happens every day," he said ; " the cats are a great 
interest in my life." I asked him once why he had been 
kind enough to take my daughter as a pupil without 
hearing her play. " I saw determination written on the 
face of mother and daughter," he answered, " and I do 
not regret it." 


I became acquainted soon after with Madame Laus- 
sot, who had received Mr. von Bulow into her house in 
Florence when he came there after the tragic ending of 
his married hfe. He decHned then to hear a note of 
music or to speak a word of German. Madame Laussot 
then gave piano lessons in her own house, but for the 
sake of von Bulow, who had been her friend in child- 
hood and had studied music with Liszt at the same time 
that she did, she went to the houses of her pupils and 
there gave them their lessons. IMonths passed and still 
this endeavor to forget his past life went on with von 
Bulow. One evening after a long day's work Madame 
Laussot came home to find him playing on the piano most 
industriously and delightedly. His vow to hear no more 
music was over, and the charm which music alone brings 
to us even in this world was his again. Still, he refused 
to speak in any language but French or Italian. 

It was a privilege to see von Bulow give a lesson. I 
never saw so careful a teacher. He walked about the 
room while the lesson was going on, and if there was 
a shadow of faltering or lack of proper expression, he 
flew to the piano, found out the trouble, and made his 
pupil repeat the passage until she had conquered the 
difficulty. He had no peer at that time as a pianist 
except Rubinstein, but his sad history was written on 
his face, and with all the honors showered upon him, 
the drop of bitterness was in his cup of life. One day 
he handed me a book of photographs to look over. They 
were the pictures of artists and friends, and he pointed 
them out to me while I turned the leaves. At last I came 
to the picture of a woman with an interesting face. He 
paused, and then said, " That was my late wife." I held 



my peace, but " Cosima" had then no charm for me. 
Bulow was a firm friend to me and mine unto the end. 
The notice on his door amused me much. In the morn- 
ing it was, " Not to be seen." In the afternoon, " Not 
at home." 

We went from the Horners on Christmas eve to hear 
the midnight mass at the church of " Santo Spirito." 
We found there a large congregation, a beautiful church, 
and many priests chanting. At twelve o'clock every 
church bell in town rang out a merry peal, and from 
each small chapel in the church a musical bell was rung. 
I was glad we had gone. The worship of God leaves a 
lesson with us if we go to it with a right mind. 

We dined with the dear Horners on Christmas day, 
and after dinner they told us anecdotes of their old time 
in England. As I was trained in my youth through 
Maria Edgeworth's books, I must here repeat some- 
thing they told us. Mr. and Mrs. Horner gave a dinner 
to which they invited Miss Edgeworth, her father, and 
the Rev. Samuel Parr, not knowing there was a deadly 
feud between the two gentlemen. When Mr. Edgeworth 
entered and saw Mr. Parr, he called out, " I cannot sit 
at dinner with that man." Maria Edgeworth, with 
w^omanly instinct, stepped forward at once, greeted Mr. 
Parr most kindly, sat by him at dinner, and through 
her lively conversation did away with the memory of 
her father's rudeness. The father was obliged to sub- 
mit. So much for " Early Lessons." 

I was invited out many times to the houses of English- 
men, Americans, and some few Italians. I hoped for an 
invitation to the marriage of Mademoiselle de Fransoni 
and the Due di San Clementi, but none was issued outside 


the family. The due's family name is Velute, as his 
ancestors invented velvet ! I like such things, and always 
wanted to take tea with the Holzschuhers in Germany. 

I went to the Baptistry to see the christening of a 
boy baby who was born on December 31, but whose birth 
was kept secret until 1871, because he would be liable 
to conscription on the first day of 1890 if born in 1870, 
and with this little ruse he might escape until 1891. This 
deception is one of the fruits of military despotism. 

My girls had looked eagerly forward to the Christmas 
holidays, and especially to an afternoon party which the 
Misses Horner gave to their little adopted daughter, 
Susie. First, Puss in Boots was acted by means of 
shadows. Susan Horner had cut huge figures out of 
pasteboard ; these were manoeuvred behind a sheet with 
the assistance of my girls. Susan had also written an 
operetta descriptive of Puss in Boots. Joanna had ar- 
ranged the words to the music of all the old-fashioned 
English airs, and the singers were Joanna and myself. 
The whole performance gave great pleasure to the fifteen 
little people assembled. The shadows were perfect, and 
the applause given to the operatic parts was never equalled 
except perhaps for " Pedrotti" or " Grisi." The au- 
dience was composed of English, Scotch, French, Italian, 
and American children, each showing her nationality in 
her manners and ways. There was one little French 
girl of seven who much amused me. She was dressed 
in the height of the fashion of the day, and wore a pair of 
white kid gloves which fitted like wax. After the per- 
formance the children danced a Swedish dance, taught 
them by Susan Horner, and the little Frenchy came to 
me in much distress, saying, " On n'a pas fait comme 


9a avec mol." She was only contented when I offered 
to perform the figure with her, which she did with much 
grace. She was the niece of the French author Michelet. 
Her name was then Souvestre, now I suppose she is 
" mere de famille," bearing another name and the " old- 
year party" forgotten. 

When the supper was announced I asked a little Scotch 
child what she would take ; she said, " Thank you, I 
will take some of the ' shape,' " meaning jelly from a 
mould. The most attractive of the party were the four 
children of Professor Charles Norton, of Harvard Col- 
lege, and this was not alone the opinion of a " native 
American," who was proud of the verdict for those from 
across the water. 

Thus passed out that old year, and the coming in of 
the new year brought me many invitations to go into 
society. One I felt bound to accept at the house of the 
American consul to meet Generals Sheridan and Forsyth. 
This ball was given in the Orsini Palace ; the decorations 
were beautiftil and the guests came from all over Europe. 
I heard an American ask an English titled lady whether 
she did not think our flag " very unique." General 
Sheridan danced, and I enjoyed myself much. 

I was invited to dine at the house of Rev. Dr. Van 
Nest, a clergyman from New York, and after dinner 
a proposition was made that we should act charades. 
There were twelve guests, and three were to act at a time. 
The lady of the house put three of us into a side room 
where we had left our wraps and where there was no 
light, and told us to " choose our word and prepare." 
The first scene was to represent a lady in her own house 
engaging a servant. The lady's part was taken b}'- one 


of my companions, who felt about the room for a shawl 
and a fan, which having secured, she went back into 
the drawing-room and began a soliloquy on the inferiority 
of domestics. Meanwhile, I too " felt about," and finally 
found a cloth article on the back of a chair, and supposing 
it to be a mantilla, put it over my shoulders and entered 
the drawing-room. While I was laying down the law 
to the lady (whose servant I was to become) on the 
subject of my privileges, I looked down and found I 
had covered my shoulders with a pair of pantaloons. I 
was aghast, but hoped to conceal them, and backed out 
of the room until I reached the door, when turning to 
open it, I was greeted with a shout of laughter from 
the company, for the suspenders hung down to my feet! 
I was sorry, but expected the matter to end there. Not 
so. A short time after a friend of mine, who had been 
at the charade party, came to see me, and told me that 
an English lady had asked her who among the Americans 
she had better call upon, and on hearing my name she 
drew herself up and said, "I cannot call on that lady; 
I understand she dressed herself in male attire and walked 
out at night." My friend told her the history of the 
charade party, and the English lady called and apologized 
to me for her false report. Thus are mole-hills often 
converted into mountains by careless listeners and more 
careless repeaters of gossip. 



Still the war continued, and though much interest 
was felt by us, the certainty as to victory for the Ger- 
mans was ours, and we were consoled, perhaps made 
forgetful, through the novelty of everything around us. 
I was urged to join the Cherubini Society, a chorus of 
mixed voices, and did so. I was much relieved, when 
I took my seat among the contralti, to find that there 
were but few women in that branch of the chorus younger 
than I. Madame Laussot led, and gave her directions 
in four languages. Von Bulow was the pianist, but 
we were preparing for a grand concert with large or- 
chestra, with him as leader. I sat between an English- 
woman older than I, but with a perfectly true voice, and 
an American who was younger than I, but who spoke 
of the American eagle as " That familiar fowl." Our 
Cherubini concert was a Mendelssohn evening, consist- 
ing of part of the " Midsummer Night's Dream" and 
" Athalie" (words by Racine). The " Athalie" was fine, 
but the " Midsummer Night's Dream" was far more 
like a winter nightmare; cold shivers went down my 
back as we all sang " Gute Nacht," not together, but 
each on his, or her, own sweet will. I was surprised 
that the audience did not leave without saying " Good- 
night," but there was much applause when all was over, 
and Von Bulow, with his back towards the audience, was 
apparently applauding us, while in reality he was making 
hideous faces at us. 


To my great pleasure I met one day, in one of the 
galleries, Mrs. Kemble. She was very glad to see me, 
and the next day called upon me. The girls were at 
their studies and did not see her, and as they greatly 
desired this privilege, I took them with me when I re- 
turned her visit. They were much pleased to go, but 
though she was charming to me, I thought she did not 
care for the presence of the girls. When I was leaving 
I apologized for having brought the girls, but she said, 
" I am glad to see them, but had no idea that any young 
Americans cared for the society of women older than 
themselves." It was a just rebuke to our young people 
then and now, but I pitied the two on whom the blow 
fell, for they had longed to see the woman who had so 
charmed and delighted me from my early youth. 

So sped our time. I had been invited to dine or take 
supper with several Americans, and had much enjoyed 
their society, the Grahams and Sorchons, of New York, 
and the Sargents and Kennards, of Philadelphia. I saw 
John Sargent then as a little boy^ not dreaming that I 
should afterwards hold my breath with delight at the 
sight of his pictures in the Boston Library. I took tea 
with an Italian family of high degree on a bitterly cold 
night. The gentlemen (members of Parliament, in 
patent-leather boots, thick gold chains, and redolent of 
musk) all hugged the fire, while the ladies shivered at 
a distance. Still, I enjoyed seeing the difiference between 
foreign customs and ours ; sometimes theirs were an 
improvement on ours, sometimes the reverse. 

We owed much of the pleasure and most of the in- 
struction we had in that winter about the objects of 
interest around us to our friends the Misses Horner. 


They had taught my girls to address them as " aunt," and 
surely real aunts were never more kind or more pains- 
taking. A visit which we made to " San Miniato," an 
old church which stands without the walls of Florence, 
rests in my memory. In the inside of the church are 
curious old frescos depicting the temptation of the 
saint by the devil. We saw this, and passing on we 
finally found the devil pushed out and covered by books 
by the brotherhood. The faces of the pious old fellows 
were a study, and the struggles of the devil under the 
books were so funny that nothing but the presence of 
the sacristan prevented my laughing aloud. The win- 
dows behind the high altar are of marble, half an inch 
thick, through which the sunlight streams, showing the 
beautiful colors of the stone. 

We were passing the Duomo one day when Joanna 
Horner called our attention to some almost tiny arches 
near the top of the church, and asked us to notice that 
these arches were only completed half-way, and added, 
" When Michael Angelo saw that part of the ornamen- 
tation he said it looked like ' beetle-boxes,' and the work 
was instantly stopped." The beetle-boxes are, however, 
still used. On Ascension Day the population turns out, 
and is employed in catching beetles, whether in memory 
of the great artist who criticised the boxes, or whether 
the beetle is to share the fate of the swine in the Old 
Testament; neither history nor the guide-books throw 
any light upon the story. The people are so supersti- 
tious that nothing is surprising. I visited the Duomo 
three times a week alone. I have been more moved 
within its walls than ever before in a church, but I wit- 
nessed a ceremony there on the Saturday before Easter 


which was most extraordinary. A large altar on wheels 
and filled with wood was drawn by four oxen to the 
space between the church and the baptistry, and we were 
told that a dove would come from the high altar of the 
Duomo and set fire to the altar. After watching a short 
time out came the dove; not, as I thought, a real dove, 
but a wooden one fastened to a wire and all ablaze. It 
did set the pile on the altar on fire, and it was curious 
to watch the country people, for the firing of the pile 
was a success, and through it a plentiful harvest was 
assured for the coming year, which was also to be a 
year of idleness for the four oxen who had contributed 
their part to the programme. 

I knew very few Italians, but a few had desired to 
make my acquaintance, not, alas! on my own account. 
The Countess Mazetti had called upon me, and I record 
an amusing incident connected with my first visit to her. 
My friend Mrs. Kennard gave a luncheon to a very old 
friend of hers and mine, Mr. Clement B. Barclay, on 
the occasion of his birthday. There were six ladies pres- 
ent, all Americans. Each one had brought some trifle 
to him, one of them bringing a head of cabbage sur- 
rounded with long red and white radishes, the whole 
tied in the form of a bouquet, with ribbons of our 
national colors. The luncheon passed off pleasantly, and 
when we were about to separate, Mr. Barclay said, " Take 
my bouquet to the children, it will amuse them." I 
said I was going to return a visit of the Countess 
Mazetti and could not carry such a thing, but the re- 
monstrances of my friend overcame my objections, and 
after covering the " bouquet" with tissue-paper, I set 
forth, thinking the countess would be out. She was at 


home, and I was ushered up to her drawing-room, where 
I found her talking with an Itahan musician of some 
note, his wife, and one or two other Itahan friends. 
I was received most kindly, and the language in which 
they were speaking was changed on my account to 
French. The musician lamented his own weak nerves 
and his ill health generally. His appearance was not 
neat, and I ventured to ask him whether he had ever 
tried cold baths, and told him I was sure they would 
benefit him. He answered with a shudder that a Ger- 
man physician had once recommended them, and added, 
" If I had followed that advice, ' J'aurais devenu fou.' " 
As he said this his restless eyes fell upon my bouquet, 
and my eye following his, I saw to my horror one long 
radish protruding from the tissue-paper and in full view 
of the company. I made no attempt at an explanation, 
fi^nished my visit, and left the drawing-room full of the 
scent of uncooked vegetables ; my last words to the 
musician were, " Pray do not forget the cold baths," 
which advice I am sure was never followed, as he evi- 
dently thought me folle, or else that Americans were in 
the habit of " marketing" and " visiting" at the same 

Our winter in Florence closed, leaving behind it only 
pleasant memories, except with regard to the weather, 
which had been damp, raw, and dark. I never saw but 
once an Italian sky equal to our own true blue, when we 
feel the joy of living and moving. When the flowers 
began to bloom we felt sad, because we must soon go 
from friends new and old. I had heard constantly 
from my cousins in Berlin, and was glad to know they 
were more cheerful, though they did not say so, but 


one of them wrote that our family name " Bache" was 
Norman " de la Beche," and she meant to have it put 
upon her visiting-cards. It sounded well, and I hoped 
that after all " spades" might prove trumps for some 
of us. 

The violets which filled our little drawing-room with 
their perfume as early as March 10 were a delight to 
us all, but still we longed for a home equinoctial storm. 
At last the hour of our departure came, but not by the 
route we had planned. Paris was still sealed to us. We 
went directly north to Antwerp, stopped there long 
enough to see the Cathedral, and crossed the Channel 
from there. Our stay was short in England, but the 
loving-kindness of the " Aunt Horners" followed us 
there. We saw their sisters. Lady Lyell and Mrs. Lyell, 
and their husbands, Sir Charles Lyell and Colonel Lyell, 
and were most kindly received and hospitably entertained 
b} them all. Colonel Lyell was a firm believer in the 
teaching of Darwin, and I confess I thought he had 
good grounds for his belief, especially when, after taking 
me to the London Zoological Garden and showing 
me human traits in various animals, we landed in front 
of the monkey cage, wherein was a monkey with a very 
long nose and eyes near together which closely resembled 
me. I did not, however, become a convert. We left Lon- 
don after a very few days, but we enjoyed those days to 
the full in sight-seeing, and left our friends with regret, 
but with the hope of seeing them and London once again. 

Our passage across the Atlantic was moderately quiet. 
There were few Americans on board our vessel, and 
but two of the other passengers interested me much. 
They were two English ladies, who were crossing for 


the pleasure of seeing America and intending to travel 
as far as California. I saw them again just before they 
left our shores for home, and they expressed the same 
views of our country and our people. We landed in 
May, 1 87 1, and of our welcome I cannot speak. There 
are some happy times which belong to each one of us 
when silence is more sacred than words. 

After the summer was over my girls entered a school 
in Philadelphia, the head of which was Agnes Irwin, 
a name well known throughout our country. She has 
been since transplanted to Boston, and holds the position 
of dean in Radcliffe College, the annex for women of 
Harvard College. There are many who enjoyed her 
judicious care and teaching in Philadelphia who rise up 
and call her " blessed" when they are teaching their own 
little children the patience and perseverance that they 
learned from their honored and beloved teacher. 

Our lives passed pleasantly with music, books, and 
kind friends. Already plans were forming for holding 
an International Exhibition of Arts and Manufactures in 
Philadelphia in 1876, the Centennial Anniversary of the 
signing of the Declaration of Independence, and Penn- 
sylvania the birthplace of our Union, was held to be the 
fitting spot. These plans, however, were not then ma- 



In recounting the good which springs from a well- 
spent, useful life, we are apt to forget that in all lives 
which may be taken as examples there have been strug- 
gles, temptations, misery, and anxiety. We overlook 
these sorrows and think only of the good accomplished. 

We praise the dead but forget the trials through 
which they have gained the end. I am reminded of this 
error into which we all fall by the events which preceded 
what we are now proud and pleased to call our " Cen- 
tennial Exhibition." Like a well-spent life it has left 
behind it countless blessings, but who pauses now to 
think over its struggles for bare existence, who remem- 
bers the burden carried, ay, carried cheerfully, by those 
men and women on whom rested the responsibility of a 
happy or disastrous issue of the great undertaking? 
The days of doubt are past and forgotten, but it seems 
not unwise to recall the noble part borne by the women 
of the country during the years between 1872 and 1876. 
I speak mainly of the women because they received little 
praise for their stupendous work, though, in the language 
of the Philadelphia Ledger of April 8, 1877, " There 
was a time when the greater portion of the interest felt 
in the Centennial Exhibition outside of Philadelphia was 
the result of their exertions. The women of this coun- 
try were its zealous friends while the men were indif- 
ferent." I thanked the generous owner of the Ledger 
then for this righteous verdict, and am about to give a 


history of some of the trials and joys of the women of 
our country during that period. 

On the i6th day of February, 1873, thirteen ladies 
of the city of Philadelphia were invited by the " Citizens' 
Centennial Board of Finance" (of the Exhibition of 1876) 
to meet together at the rooms of the Board, 904 Walnut 
Street. This invitation was accepted by nine ladies, 
who assembled on the day and hour appointed and were 
most cordially received by Mr. John Welsh, the President 
of the Board of Finance, and Mr. Ziegler; Mr. Meyer 
Asch, the Secretary of the Board, was also present. The 
Committee thus called together represented all religious 
creeds, all political beliefs, and also some of the lines of 
thought which have since broadened into pathways which 
woman is now treading with honor, security, and profit 
to herself and others. 

Mr. Welsh addressed us most kindly, told us frankly 
that the United States Commissioners for the Exhibition 
and the Board of Finance had thus far failed to arouse 
all the interest necessary to carry the undertaking to a 
successful issue, and they therefore had invited thirteen 
ladies, in memory of the thirteen colonial States, to co- 
operate with them in the endeavor to create popular 
enthusiasm and to add to the subscriptions for Centennial 
stock. He laid down no rules for our government, but 
was leaving us to our own reflections, when Mr. Ziegler 
whispered a few words to him, and turning back, he 
said, " Ladies, you will see that Mrs. Gillespie's name 
is at the head of each list on your invitations." These 
last few words almost seemed a command from Mr. 
Welsh, but the ladies then present submitted quietly and 
gracefully, and I was made the head of what was then, 


and ever after, known as the " Women's Centennial Ex- 
ecutive Committee." I confess that my agitation was 
great. My brother had told me that he was sure I would 
find the name of each one of the Committee of Thirteen 
at the head of the list on her own invitation, and added, 
" That is so like men." I went home depressed and 
with much of the astrakhan fur trimming on my coat 
picked off, leaving the skin as bare of fur as was my 
poor brain of ideas. We adjourned to meet on February 
20. The resignations of the four ladies who were not 
at our first meeting were then received and accepted. 
Their places were at once filled, and the Committee after 
organizing consisted of Mrs. E. D. Gillespie, President; 
]\Irs. John Sanders, Vice-President; Mrs. J. Edgar 
Thomson, Treasurer; Mrs. Aubrey H. Smith, Secre- 
tary ; Mrs. Emily R. Buckman, Mrs. Henry Cohen, Mrs. 
John W. Forney, Miss Gratz, Mrs. Huldah Justice, Miss 
McHenry, Mrs. Charles J. Stille, Mrs. Matthew Simpson, 
and ]\Irs. Richard P. White. 

The first business in order was a suitable plan for 
collecting subscriptions for Centennial stock. I disclosed 
to the Committee a plan I had formed several years 
before, hoping that some turn in the wheel of fortune 
might give me the contract for cleaning the streets of 
Philadelphia. I had even gone so far in this ambitious 
dream that my arrangements were made for the fulfil- 
ment of it. These plans I laid before the Committee, 
where they found more favor than they would have met 
if presented to the City Fathers. I proposed that we 
should find a woman in each ward in the city who would 
be a capable head to a committee of not more than thirty- 
six women of her own choosing. (I named thirty-six 


because the number of States in the Union at that time 
was thirty-six.) Each member of these Ward Com- 
mittees should have intrusted to her a book in which to 
register the subscriptions she should gather towards the 
Centennial stock, and each aid was to have her own 
district for her work within the ward. The Committee 
agreed to try this plan, and we divided the wards among 
us to find suitable chairmen. Mrs. Edgar Thomson 
and I had three wards to look after and were at a loss 
to know how to begin our work. Finally we went to 
Mr. George W. Chi Ids, who advised us to correspond 
with the clergy of all creeds whose places of worship were 
situated in our wards. 

We wrote forty-two, we thought, most interesting 
letters and received only three answers. One kindly 
soul gave us the name of a lady who did not live in the 
ward where his church was, and who told us she had 
no influence there. Another said his congregation was 
small and he knew no one in it who could devote her 
time to the work of preparation for the Centennial Ex- 
hibition, but that he wns himself building an addition 
to his church and would be glad of any assistance we 
could render him in that matter! 

Then I turned to Mr. Walborn, our postmaster at the 
time of the Sanitary Fair, and on his recommendation we 
found excellent women in all respects to undertake the 
work in the wards intrusted to the care of Mrs. Thomson 
and myself. The other members of the Executive Com- 
mittee had been more successful than we, and by March 
10, 1873, more than one-half of the Ward Committees 
in our city were organized and ready for work. By the 
20th of April twenty-nine wards had joined our ranks. 


but no organization was ever effected in two of the then 
thirty-one wards of the city. No time was lost. First 
came the organization of the Committees, and then fol- 
lowed their prompt and effective action. I must here 
pay a tribute to the Ward Chairmen and their aids. I 
do not believe that in any organization of women since 
the world began there was more harmony and steadfast- 
ness of purpose than in these our Centennial Committees. 
I have seen before, and since, eyes that sparkled and 
cheeks that blushed over the gift of a flower from a 
chosen friend, but brighter eyes and more rosy cheeks 
I have never seen than those which belonged to the 
young aids who gathered the subscriptions to Centennial 
stock. In storm and in sunshine they went from house 
to house on their mission, and before we all separated 
for the summer subscriptions had been secured through 
their agency amounting to forty-seven thousand dollars. 
The Executive Committee had met eight times be- 
tween February 16 and March 10, and the different mem- 
bers had assisted the Ward Chairman in organizing 
committees in seventeen of the wards. The Executive 
Committee met alone on every Friday morning and with 
the Ward Chairmen on every Monday afternoon. Some 
little time elapsed before the wards were organized, but 
I here record the names of the Chairmen : 

First Ward, Mrs. B. H. Chadwick. 
Second Ward, Mrs. Charles M. Peterson. 
Third Ward, Mrs. B. Morton. 
Fourth Ward, Mrs. B. Hubbell. 
Fifth Ward, Mrs. J. W. Forney. 
Sixth Ward, Miss E. Bomeisler. 
Seventh Ward, Mrs. Richard L. Ashhurst. 
Eighth Ward, Mrs. Crawford Arnold. 


Ninth Ward, Miss Louisa Claghorn. 
Tenth Ward, Miss Fannie S. Magee. 
Eleventh Ward, Mrs. Alex. H. Newitt. 
Twelfth Ward, Mrs. William Conn. 
Thirteenth Ward, Mrs. T. W. Bailey. 
Fourteenth Ward, Mrs. I. Hyneman. 
Fifteenth Ward, Mrs. A. W. Rand. 
Sixteenth Ward, Mrs. Dr. Knorr. 
Eighteenth Ward, Mrs. Dr. Claridge. 
Nineteenth Ward, Mrs. T. W. Swain. 
Twentieth Ward, Mrs. G. W. Carr. 
Twenty-first Ward, Mrs. W. B. Stephens, 
Twenty-second Ward, Miss H. A. Zell. 
Twenty-third Ward, Mrs. J. R. Savage. 
Twenty-fourth Ward, Mrs. E. T. Hardie. 
Twenty-fifth Ward, Mrs. Robert Kennedy. 
Twenty-sixth Ward, Miss Lucretia V. Carr. 
Twenty-seventh Ward, Mrs. Charles Mcllvaine. 
Twenty-eighth Ward, Mrs. E. H. Davis. 
Twenty-ninth Ward, Mrs. W. Hughes. 
Thirty-first Ward, Mrs. E. H. Ryan. 

Before the first meeting of the Ward Chairmen the 
President was requested by her Committee to prepare 
an address of welcome, which she did as follows : 

" Ladies, Chairmen of the Wards : 

" I am requested by the Women's Centennial Executive Committee 
to bid you welcome and to thank you for coming among us. Our 
Committee has assigned to me the task of telling you of our work 
up to this moment, and also of pointing out to you the work ex- 
pected from you. 

" Three weeks ago the Citizens' Centennial Finance Committee 
called together thirteen women (the original States of the Union 
having numbered thirteen). When we met, we were told by the 
Committee which called us that in order to secure the entire success 
of the Centennial work it was thought necessary to fire the enthu- 
siasm of the feminine part of our population, and that the first 
spark of that fire was to emanate from our Committee of Thirteen, 
but that any organization which might grow from this proposition 
must originate with us. 


" We need scarcely tell you that we felt our task no easy one, 
or that each one of us mistrusted her own powers. We parted on 
that day almost without a ' farewell !' Each one looked to the 
rest for sympathy, and we agreed to meet again in a few days to 
see what could be done. We have met many times since, but until 
recently we scarcely hoped for success. Now we are confident of 
it. In our own weakness we forgot the patriotism and public spirit 
of the women of our land, but you, Chairmen of our Ward Com- 
mittees, are here to convince us of our error. 

" It seems almost superfluous to tell you what we are to look 
for. We all know that we will celebrate in 1876 the One Hundredth 
Anniversary of our National Independence, and we have been told 
by the Committee which called us together that our first object is 
to rouse the interest of women in the work and to obtain subscribers 
to the stock of the Centennial Board of Finance, incorporated by 
an Act of Congress for the purpose of raising the funds necessary 
to conduct the International Exposition. The shares are ten dollars 
each, payable in easy instahnents. 

" For this end we have decided that our whole city shall be can- 
vassed. We have appointed a chairman in each ward, whose duty 
it is to select a committee of not more than thirty-six women (who 
will, with herself, represent the present number of States in our 
Union), who will act as her aids, and whose appointment will be 
confirmed by this Executive Committee. 

" It has been further decided, after consultation with the Com- 
mittee which gave us the power to act, that each member of a ward 
committee will, through her chairman, be provided with a book in 
which to register subscriptions, and a book from which she is to 
give receipts for subscriptions to stock of the Centennial Board of 
Finance. The Ward Committees are expected to enlist the sym- 
pathies of all in the work. 

" Not one of those who so largely contribute to the prosperity 
of our city (we mean the working women) is to be overlooked. 
Factories are to be visited, and the operatives are to be invited to 
band together and take shares of stock, so that, if possible, each shall 
have an interest in the success of the undertaking. 

" Our organization is nearly effected. We invite you to unite 
with us in the work, for we are assured that this Exhibition will 
not only be the means of demonstrating the great advantages that 
the world reaps from woman's work, but will place her work on a 
higher level. 


" Every subscription that you gather will be but another stone 
added to the building of the pedestal on which the American woman 
is destined to stand; and in helping ourselves we shall help the 
women in other lands, where now it is no uncommon sight to see a 
woman and a cow harnessed together to a plough and a man driving 

" Actuated then by our love for our land and our ambition for 
our sex, we go forth doubly armed to make the Exposition of 1876 
a grand success. Some may say that the Exposition will merely 
affect the interests of Philadelphia, but this is not so. Just as the 
Declaration of Independence brought freedom to all the States, so 
will this Exposition bring high consideration for each State in our 
Union. Each signer of that precious old document did not insist 
upon trotting to his own State, there to give his signature. It was 
given here for the welfare of all ; and here for the honor of all shall 
these commemorative ceremonies be held ; and here we shall pres- 
ently ask the women from our sister States to come up to help us; 
but before we can extend that glad invitation we must show that 
we are in earnest and that we have borne our share in the labors, 
a share which we now warn you must be the lion's share. This 
must be a national work. 

" It is true we all have a certain sort of State pride, which is 
natural and commendable. Massachusetts is deaf to the noise of 
her shuttles and looms, or finds sweet music from them. Pennsyl- 
vania thinks the soot of her mines becoming to the complexion of 
her people. South Carolina is proud of her many cotton-fields, 
and Louisiana finds nothing so sweet as her sugar-canes. The 
West rejoices, first, in her prairies, and then in the iron belts 
which girdle them. But what citizen of any of these States is 
insensible to a feeling of pride on beholding the Capitol at Wash- 
ington? And yet the immediate advantages derived from that 
Capitol belong only to those who live in the District of Columbia. 

" Which of us can see the harbor of New York and not feel glad 
that it belongs to us, while the proud pleasure of actually possessing 
it belongs only to the citizens of New York? 

" Two years ago I came from England, and among my fellow- 
passengers was a most intelligent Englishwoman, who asked me 
many questions of America. At first I was enthusiastic and felt 
disposed to dwell upon the glories of our land, but suspecting that 
I was being laughed at when she asked what the approach to 
New York was like, I said, ' A barren waste.' We reached Sandy 


Hook in the night, and the next morning passed in the bright sun- 
light into that harbor. The trees were fresh and green, the houses 
and churches peeping between the leaves, and I felt almost as if it 
were the entrance to Paradise, when the English lady came to me 
and, with the tears in her eyes, said, ' You call this a barren waste. 
Oh, you blessed people !' 

" And we are a blessed people, full of faults though we be ! Let 
us, then, my sisters, go forth in this work, carrying with us the 
thought of our blessings. Let us feel as if it is the birthday of 
our mother that we are about to celebrate, — a mother with whom 
some of us cannot hope to live long. Our land is yet so young 
that we may almost imagine that our son will reach his majority 
in 1876, and that we must help to light the bonfires in his honor. 

" Whatever motives may actuate us, let us work together with 
a will. To you, Chairmen of the Ward Committees, who will fan 
our spark into a flame, we look for help ; and to you will belong 
the honor of whatever is done. I speak in the name of all the 
Committee of Thirteen when I tell you we are ready to aid you 
in this work. When you are organizing your committees, if any 
word of ours will help or cheer, we stand ready to go to 3'ou at your 
call. We are one with you. It may not fall to the lot of all of us 
to see that one hundredth birthday of our national independence, 
but let us pray God not only for a blessing on our work, but that 
those of us who remain on that day may have the joy of feeling 
that throughout those years all has gone pleasantly in our intercourse 
with each other, and that in 1876 we will have earned for our home 
the title of the ' City of Sisterly Love.' 

" E. D. Gillespie, President. 

" Issued by order of the Committee." 

After this meeting the Ward Committees were 
promptly, cheerfully, and admirably organized by their 
Chairmen. The members of the Executive Committee 
were invited to be present at the ward meetings, to 
instruct, to encourage, and to thank those who had come 
to the front, who were the rank and file of that noble 
army of women. 

We accepted these invitations gladly, and left our aids 
refreshed and strengthened for our part of the work. 


On Monday, March 17, the Executive Committee again 
met with the Ward Chairmen, when arrangements were 
completed for holding a mass-meeting in the Academy 
of Music on April 19. Mr. Welsh had gladly consented 
to introduce Mr. Eli K. Price as Chairman of the meet- 
ing, and we had the promise of speeches on this occasion 
from Mr. James M. Boyd, of Montgomery County, Mr. 
Henry Armitt Brown, and Mr. Daniel Dougherty, of 

The joint Committees then accepted the following pre- 
ambles and resolutions which had been prepared, and 
which were presented on April 19 and adopted by the 
women : 

" Whereas, It seems natural that the spot where the nation drew 
its first breath should be selected by Congress for the proper cele- 
bration of the One Hundredth Anniversary of its existence, it 
seems also fitting that Philadelphia should take the initiative in 
organizing a systematic plan of work. Having this in view, the 
Citizens' Centennial Finance Committee have appointed an Executive 
Committee of Thirteen women (to represent the original number, 
of States), whose appointment was confirmed by the United States 
Centennial Commissioners for Pennsylvania and the Chairman of 
the Board of Corporators. Therefore, 

"Resolved, That we, the women of Philadelphia (the sacred and 
historic spot where, a century ago, the immortal Declaration was 
promulgated), will take an active, cheerful, and harmonious part 
with the Centennial Board of Finance in preparing for the great 
national celebration of 1876. 

" Resolved, That we pledge the affectionate interest and solicitude 
of our sons and daughters in the work, teaching them the magnitude 
of the occasion on which we are to meet the world in fellowship 
and friendship ; rejoicing in the opportunity to testify our gratitude 
for the happiness that is ours ; to keep bright and green in memory 
the heroic deeds of our fathers. South and North, who shared in 
the toils and dangers, and whose children are now to share in the 
glory and the common weal ; and, 


" Whereas, It has been promised to us that there will be a sphere 
for women's action and space for her work during the Centennial 
Exhibition that will make the occasion more attractive and im- 
pressive, and more productive of kind and social feeling among the 
inhabitants of our whole country, we desire to render such service 
as will tend to reunite our sisters and brethren in that cordial union 
which made our thirteen colonies one people in 1776. Therefore, 

" Resolved, That we and our associates do proffer to the Cen- 
tennial Commissioners such further aid and services as they may 
think v/ill be useful in the light and finer objects of skill and taste 
which will fittingly come under the supervision and care of women; 
and whilst aiding therein, we express our further desire and willing- 
ness to represent in part the hospitality and courtesies of the city 
of Philadelphia towards her visitors from all parts of the United 
States and foreign countries ; to give them a hearty welcome ; to 
render their visit entertaining and instructive ; and to make the 
reunion of these States truly one of earnest and enduring friend- 
ship, affection, and patriotism. May their peace be established for 
a thousand years !" 

The third and last of these resolutions was written by 
Mr. Eli K. Price and submitted to the Committee for 
the approval of its members. This approval they gave 
most cordially and with many thanks to the writer. 

The speakers did ample justice to the occasion, and 
had proof of their success through several large sub- 
scriptions to Centennial stock which were received from 
individuals present, while the announcement of one sub- 
scription from the Pennsylvania Railroad Company of 
two hundred thousand dollars, which was offered with 
a few words by Mr. J. Edgar Thomson, the president 
of the railroad company, was received with loud and 
long applause. Mr. Thomson continued from that time 
the warm friend of the women's Committees, and often 
when we were puzzled as to the wisest course for us to 
pursue, even in minor matters, he lent us his ear, and 
gave us, after due deliberation, good advice, with kind 


words and hopes for success. Personally I owe much 
to him, and even after he left this world and its cares, 
the memory of his hope of the benefit which would arise 
from this Exhibition for the whole country kept me 
faithful to the work, for I was very often anxious and 
uncertain. The result justified Mr. Thomson's expecta- 
tions, and we who gave each day and night of our lives 
to the work were satisfied. 

I must here again pay tribute to the Ward Chairmen 
and their work. I never left one of those Monday meet- 
ings without carrying with me some method of pro- 
cedure which helped us of the Executive Committee 
forward in our part of the work. 

The accounts of the number of shares taken in the 
separate wards and of the amounts paid thereon were 
most beautifully made out, everything clear and exact. 
The sensible suggestions amazed me often. I had lived 
in one ward all my life and had been contented, but 
my eyes were then turned to other parts of the city with 
delight, and the knowledge I gained then is with me 
now. Many were the anecdotes told me by some of 
the heads of the wards of the adventures of their aids. 
They went to the rich and poor alike, and endeavored 
to excite lively interest by inducing four or five persons 
to subscribe for one share of stock. The answer of one 
woman comes back to me now. She owed her life, as 
T do, to the Emerald Isle, and when she was told that 
the funds collected were to go to support the " Centen- 
nial," she said, " No, my lady, I can't believe that, for 
I know all the saints in the calendar, and there ain't no 
* Saint Tenniel.' " The head of the Committee for the 
Twenty-first Ward, Mrs. Stephens, who was full of dry 


wit, gave an account of the expedition of one of her aids 
to collect subscriptions. I will relate it in her own 
words. '' My young lady dressed herself prettily and 
called at one of the largest houses in our neighborhood; 
we have not many wealthy people in the country; but 
after she had knocked at the door, a huge dog flew 
towards her, barking loudly, and she, to drive him away, 
took her parasol covered with lace. He seized the para- 
sol, tore off the lace, and she left, with the frame of the 
parasol in her hand, much dispirited, with no subscrip- 
tion and no shelter from the rays of the sun." 

In May, 1873, the United States Centennial Commis- 
sion held their annual meeting here. They fully en- 
dorsed the plan of inviting the co-operation of women 
in the work of preparation, and visited us in our office 
during one of our Monday afternoon meetings. Mr. 
William M. Byrd, of Alabama, made an address to us 
then, and several of the members of the Commission 
sent us afterwards the names of women in their States 
who would be likely to unite with us. On July 4, 
1873, amid imposing ceremonies and in the presence of 
representatives of the city. State, and national govern- 
ments, the Park Commission made a transfer of four 
hundred and sixty-five acres to the United States Cen- 
tennial Commission, and after this dedication of the 
grounds for the purposes of the Exhibition the formal 
invitation to foreign governments to take part in the 
Exhibition was announced by the President of the United 
States, General Grant. Thus far the outlook was bright. 
I spent that summer writing to the women who had 
been named by the Commissioners, and I also wrote to 
the governors of many States, hoping thus to secure their 


sympathy. We were successful in these matters, and 
I fully believe that but for the commercial crisis in Sep- 
tember, 1873, our fond hope that the Exhibition would 
require no aid from the national government would have 
been realized. Besides the assistance we were pledged 
to give to the Board of Finance, one project which lay 
near our hearts and commended itself to our judgment 
was an exhibition of women's work separately from other 
exhibits. We desired to give to the mass of women, 
who were laboring by the needle and obtaining only a 
scanty subsistence, the opportunity to see what women 
were capable of attaining unto in other and higher 
branches of industry; and to do this effectually, we felt 
that these exhibits must find place in a special space 
set apart for them alone. We did not shrink from com- 
petition with the works of men, but we sought to show our 
more timid sisters that some women had outstripped them 
in the race for useful and remunerative employment, and 
to encourage them to the perseverance sure to be fol- 
lowed by a larger measure of success. Mr. Welsh had 
heartily endorsed this plan ; having the promise of ample 
space in the Main Building for our " Women's Ex- 
hibit," we began our work hoping for good results. 



After the close of one of our Monday meetings, in 
October, 1873, a gentleman came to our office and asked 
me whether I knew that the Centennial anniversary 
of the overthrow of the tea in Boston harbor would be 
reached on December 16, 1873. I told him I had not 
remembered it, and he proposed that each ward in the 
city should give a tea-party on that day. To this propo- 
sition I demurred, and told him that I thought the wards 
ought to unite and celebrate the day together. My Com- 
mittee thought favorably of the plan, and we forthwith 
proceeded to carry it out, and determined to adopt a 
suggestion inviting all engaged either as heads of Com- 
mittees or as aids to wear Martha Washington caps and 
" kerchiefs." Every one had something to propose to 
make the occasion memorable, and finally we decided to 
go to Trenton and see whether the potters there could 
not manufacture some teacups appropriate to the occa- 
sion. Mr. John Moses agreed to do this. The fac- 
simile of the autograph of " John Hancock" was painted 
upon each cup, and around the saucer was " Centennial 
Anniversary of the Boston Tea-Party." Mr. Moses 
came to Philadelphia with a sample cup and saucer, 
and I was so pleased that, without consultation with any 
one, I ordered one thousand to be made, and Mr. Moses 
returned to Trenton with the order. Sober second 
thought told me I had been rash, so I went to Mr. 
George W. Childs and confided to him that if the tea- 


cups would not sell I should be bankrupt, as the order 
came from me alone. Mr. Childs laughed heartily and 
told me to send the bill to him, but I was never obliged 
to do this, for not only were one thousand sold, but ten 
thousand ! The orders were not filled for some months ; 
each cup and saucer cost us twelve cents, and we sold it 
for twenty-five cents, and I think that some of us thought 
that eventually the Vk^hole Exhibition Buildings would be 
paid for with the profits on the teacups. I had another 
pang when the tickets for the Tea-Party came from the 
printer. We had ordered three thousand. When I saw 
them I feared they never would be sold and put them 
away with sad foreboding. The next day, when not 
a ticket was sold, a gentleman came in and asked for ten 
tickets. I was much pleased but fearful of showing my 
pleasure. I told him I did not think I could give him 
ten, as we only had three thousand to dispose of. He 
was contented with five, and that afternoon several gen- 
tlemen came rushing in, each taking five tickets, asking 
for them with trembling voices. After that the sale 
was steady, and I attributed this to the advertising of 
our first patron. Our first plan was to give the " Tea" 
only in the Academy of Music, but the demand for tickets 
was so great that we went to the managers of the Acad- 
emy of Music and asked them to put a bridge between 
that building and Horticultural Hall. We knew that 
plans for a bridge uniting the two buildings were in 
existence. We were told at first there was not time 
to build a bridge, and that the engineer would refuse 
to build it, but we sought the engineer, and he said 
there was time enough. We then offered to pay one-half 
of the expense of putting up the bridge. Our offer was 



accepted and the bridge built. The Tea-Party opened 
at four o'clock at Horticultural Hall; many children 
were brought at that time and were regaled with cake 
and ice-cream and lemonade by their fond mothers, who 
doubtless thought with these good things they would 
imbibe the seeds of a patriotism which would never die. 
At eight o'clock a large audience assembled in the 
Academy, the entire parquet and a part of the parquet 
circle being reserved for the Committees and their aids. 
On the stage were seated the members of the Board of 
Finance, a few of the Commissioners from the neighbor- 
ing States, many business men who had contributed 
largely to the Centennial fund, and our own Executive 
Committee. The Women's Committee assembled in Hor- 
ticultural Hall, each member wearing her Martha Wash- 
ington cap and kerchief, and thus were " Martha Wash- 
ington Tea-Parties" inaugurated. They marched over 
the bridge to the Academy and took seats in the parquet 
reserved for them. When they were all seated, Mr. 
Welsh turned to me with beaming face and said, " I 
have never seen so lovely a flower-garden." I agreed 
with him. Again we listened to the stirring words of 
Henry Armitt Brown and others, and in that short but 
impressive meeting the scenes in Boston harbor on 
December 17, 1773, were dwelt upon by the speakers 
with reverence for those who left to us the privilege 
of celebrating the Centennial anniversary of that day. 
The whole company then adjourned over the bridge to 
Horticultural Hall, where refreshments were served, the 
young people danced and sold " John Hancock" teacups. 
We netted through this Tea-Party three thousand dol- 
lars, which we gave to the Board of Finance for the 


purchase of stock in the name of the " Mount Vernon 
National Association." 

One incident connected with this, our first entertain- 
ment, I must record. Our friend, Mr. James Peacock Sims, 
had some small " charms" made out of wood, in the shape 
of "tea-boxes," marked on the sides " 1773-1873." On 
the bottom were these Latin words : " Tu Doces," " Thou 
Tea-chest." When they were ready they were sent to 
me in a cigar-box, which I carried with me to the office. 
An amiable newspaper reporter wdio lived opposite to 
the office gave this news item in one of the Sunday 
papers : " The members of the Women's Centennial Com- 
mittee are smokers, they carry their cigar-boxes into 
their office without any scruple or concealment." 

Subscriptions to Centennial stock received by our or- 
ganization were always transferred at once to the Treas- 
urer of the Board of Finance. We had reached 1874, 
however, before allies from the outside States came to 
help us. I had then been invited to visit several States 
to assist in organizing Women's Committees, and I 
gladly accepted these invitations. One of the most beau- 
tiful entertainments given in Trenton for the benefit of 
the Exhibition was the triumphal entrance of Washington 
into Trenton. 

Everything we have read of and seen in prints was 
there except the general himself, but a gentleman took 
his place and rode under the triumphal arch, while little 
girls strewed flowers in his way, and we all forgot for 
the moment the thorny pathway he had trodden while he 
was battling for the life of the nation. 

In 1874 the District of Columbia, Massachusetts, and 
Ohio joined our organization. A large Tea-Party was 


given in the rotunda of the Capitol, the use of it being 
granted for this purpose to the Committee in the District 
of Columbia. Congress was then in session, and I pre- 
sume thought it had done its full share in the work of 
preparation for 1876, for then began their unwillingness 
to appropriate from the national treasury a sum suffi- 
cient to enable the managers to make the Exhibition 
creditable to the occasion and to the United States gov- 
ernment. However, those interested were unwearieci 
in their efforts. Of the work of the women I must 

I had already written to Hon. John Eaton, the Super- 
intendent of the Bureau of Education in the Treasury 
Department, and he assisted me in many ways. First 
in preparing charts for the Educational Exhibit of the 
Women's Department. These charts showed the number 
of women who were teachers in 1874, and also their 
excess over the male teachers in all the States of the 
Union. Then he was good enough to aid us in com- 
municating with foreign countries, so as to secure if 
possible a full representation of what woman had done 
for the cause of education. We found that in our own 
country women teachers far outnumbered the men. But 
this information had not sufficiently melted the hearts 
of men, or rather removed the cobwebs from their brains, 
so that women might find places as members of " boards 
of education," but in these days, hearts which were once 
stone are melting, cobwebs which were once thick are 
being brushed away, and woman is finding her place 
as a teacher, school director, etc., and who shall say this 
change is not due to the Centennial? 

We found the information we desired difficult to ob- 


tain from many of the foreign countries, but we estab- 
lished a " Committee on Charities," which was most 
successful in our own country and in foreign countries. 
The following circular shows what our desire was : 

" The Women's Centennial Executive Committee has appointed 
a subcommittee of their number to obtain information concerning 
the various forms of religious, philanthropic, and patriotic work 
organized or conducted by women in American and in foreign coun- 

" This is done to enable them to give a bird's-eye view of women's 
work in these directions at the International Exhibition, and to 
illustrate the fact that a large proportion of the charities of the 
world are conducted by women. 

"It will .comprehend within its scope homes and asylums of all 
sorts ; mission work in its broadest sense in our cities, our country, 
and in foreign lands ; industrial schools and sisterhoods, the tem- 
perance cause, and every other form of benevolence. 

" It is proposed as far as possible to have a printed report of the 
rise and progress of such good works, accompanied by a lithograph 
or other representation in the case of an institution or school. 

" The Committee earnestly ask the co-operation of persons or 
associations having charge of any of the forms of benevolence con- 
tained in the subjoined list. They invite them to send a short 
history of their work: a picture, where it can be so illustrated, 
or, at the least, one or more yearly reports." 

The response to this was cordial, not only from the 
women of our own country but from foreigners. The 
Empress of Germany sent accounts of the German char- 
itable institutions, and a large album full of the pictures 
of the hospitals and asylums in Berlin, many of which I 
knew she was in the habit of visiting frequently. 

The Queen of England promised some of the artistic 
work of herself and her daughters for exhibition in the 
Women's Department of the Exhibition, and this promise 
was faithfully kept. 


We had also applied to the United States Patent Office 
for a list of the inventions of women. This we received, 
and at once communications were sent to the owners of 
the patents asking for the privilege of exhibiting them. 
The outlook was most encouraging for a creditable dis- 
play of woman's work in the portion of the Main Build- 
ing set apart for the Women's Department. Patents of 
many useful inventions were on file with our Committee, 
and the exhibits were afterwards in our Women's Build- 

I desire to copy a few passages from the stirring ap- 
peals in behalf of the Centennial which were put forth 
by the women who were at the head of the work in the 
several States. Space would fail me if I gave them all. 
My own earliest and most faithful ally outside of Penn- 
sylvania was Mrs. Edward F. Noyes, of Ohio. The 
women of Ohio were roused to action through her pa- 
triotic and womanly appeal, which I here give : 

" Nearly every country in the civilized world has signi- 
fied by the appointment of Commissioners and by official 
communications with our government its desire to be 
represented at our Centennial. This alone should incite 
us to the utmost exertion in representing our own in- 
dustries and our own resources, and it is through the 
patient painstaking perseverance of our women that this 
must, in a great measure, be accomplished." 

The history of their work which follows proves that 
our excellent member from Ohio was a prophetess. The 
work of the women of that State was not surpassed even 
by foreign exhibits in the Women's Building. The suc- 
cess of the exhibits in our building did not then, or 
shall it ever, drive from my memory the joy I felt when 



I saw the patriotic feeling which hved in the bosoms 
of women all over the country, who still held in remem- 
brance the trials and sacrifices of those who planted our 
government. When I first visited Cincinnati, I found 
the ladies there busily engaged in wood-carving. They 
held a meeting for the purpose of organizing in behalf 
of the Centennial, and after welcoming me, they asked 
me what work they could do besides. I told them that 
in Europe many women made profitable support through 
painting on china. So eager was this Committee that 
they began at once, and when I returned the following 
year to be present at a " Carnival of Nations" given in 
Cincinnati for the benefit of the Exhibition, I found many 
beautiful specimens of china-painting done by the ladies, 
and I am told that the famous Rock wood pottery owes 
its birth from the " Spirit of '76" which inspired its 
founder, my friend, Mrs. Bellamy Storer. This pottery 
has now a world-wide reputation, and has received medals 
from more than one World's Exhibition, and the " Grand 
Prix," the highest prize ever given in France, has just 
been awarded to it at the Exhibition of 1900 in Paris. 

I am sorry the list of our exhibits cannot be found, 
but I have the applications for space in our Department, 
and it does honor to the women of our whole country. 

The exhibits in wood-carving from Ohio excelled all 
others. I see now in memory a dark walnut bedstead 
with poppies, carved by a woman's hand, on the head- 
board and morning glories on the footboard. It was 
beautiful, and seemed to bespeak quiet sleep and joyful 
awakening for the designers and carvers, two sisters. 

The Cincinnati Carnival of Nations was held in an old 
Exhibition building. I helped to unpack some of the 


boxes containing g"ifts for sale from all parts of the 
State. While I was doing this under a shed and quite 
alone I saw some rats running about, evidently thinking 
they were masters of the situation. Being frightened 
myself at sight of them, and determined to show them 
they were not alone, I began to sing an air from " Norma" 
in a very loud voice. The rats slunk away while I sang 
"See, oh! Norma, thy infants loving," but one of the 
Committee, Mrs. Bullock, came to see what was the mat- 
ter, and then apologized for the old building. In this 
same old building I had listened to the Second Cincin- 
nati Music Festival of 1875, under the leadership of 
Theodore Thomas, and in a vague way I said, " You 
ought to have a new music hall," not knowing that she 
was the niece of Mr. Reuben Springer, to whom she 
told the story of the rats and myself. Whether due to 
Mrs. Bullock, the rats, or myself, Mr. Springer built 
the beautiful Music Hall which now stands a monument 
to his generosity. 

Early in 1874 the Women's Centennial Committees 
were at work in eleven counties in the State of Ohio, 
and in Massachusetts Committees were working with a 
will in fifty-four towns. This we were especially glad 
of, for in writing to the Commissioner for Massachusetts 
asking him to appoint one woman in that State to be 
head of that State, this answer was returned : "I scarcely 
think there is any woman in Massachusetts who will 
be willing to assist in an Exhibition for Philadelphia." 
Not dispirited, I wrote to my friend, Mrs. James T. 
Fields, who inaugurated the work willingly and cheer- 
fully with Mrs. S. T. Hooper at the head of the Boston 
Committee, and the whole work was carried to the end 


in Massachusetts most successfully. In the appeal put 
forth by this Committee are found these words : " The 
International Exhibition is designed to commemorate 
the birth of the nation. The women of the Revolution 
have a proud history in connection with that immense 
result." " To enable their descendants to show their 
gratitude by taking a part in this commemoration, the 
Centennial Commission have authorized the formation 
of the ' Women's Auxilliary Committee.' " " We earn- 
estly invite your co-operation in promoting this great, 
just, and patriotic work. Ordinary appeals are surely 
not needed in homes ever fragrant with the memories 
of Revolutionary men and measures. There can be no 
other than a general and a hearty response, — one that 
will be worthy of the place Boston occupies in the noble 
history of our country. 

" Let the Centennial Commission be cheered in their 
Herculean labor by a substantial offering from the home 
of Faneuil Hall and the soil of Bunker Hill." 

By the close of the year 1874 organizations were 
formed in nearly all the States then in the Union, and 
the women were planning and giving entertainments, 
half the proceeds of which in the States outside of Penn- 
sylvania were invested in the " stock of the Centennial 
Exhibition," the other half was retained by the Managers 
towards the fitting out and care, during the Exhibition, 
of the portion of the buildings to be set apart for the 
exhibition of women's work. The fertile brain of woman 
was taxed to the utmost and with the happiest results. 
We in Philadelphia planned an entertainment called a 
" Washington Assembly," when every one was asked to 
appear in the costume of the eighteenth century. We 


received from the Committee in Louisiana for that enter- 
tainment a barrel of oranges, with a graceful note from 
the member of our Committee from that State. In the 
middle of the evening I was sitting in the background, 
on a market-basket, tired out, when a lady came to the 
booth and asked to see me. One of the Committee looked 
about, and seeing me resting in a corner, said, " There 
is Mrs. Gillespie." " I would like to speak to her," was 
the answer. I rose when called, and the lady said, " I 
wanted to see you to give you this," and handed me a 
plate on which was a picture of " La Grange," the resi- 
dence of General Lafayette ; she was about leaving, when 
I said that I could not then receive the plate, as the cases 
were all locked and I feared to trust it outside. Her 
answer was, " I did not bring it here as a loan ; I brought 
it as a gift to you." I asked, "Who gave it?" She 
said, " That you will never know," and disappeared in 
the crowd. I long still to know her name, and think of 
my friend every time I look upon the plate, which hangs 
upon my wall in the room in which I am writing. Then 
it seemed to me a good omen, and I fancied it would 
" save the day" of the Exhibition, as the great French 
general had helped us, in our day of tribulation during 
the Revolution, to " save our day." 



We were anxious then about the Congressional ap- 
propriation towards erecting the Exhibition Buildings. 
Some of the States were unwilling that Pennsylvania 
should enjoy the privileges her birthright gave her, for 
here the nation was born, the Declaration signed, and 
the Constitution formed. 

Knowing that our Southern sisters could not con- 
tribute largely financially to the Exhibition, and being 
determined that the world and his wife who would be 
our guests in 1876 should see and understand that the 
women were of " one mind in one country," we issued 
an appeal to all our organizations, which is here given, 
and which resulted in an admirable " Cookery Book," 
which is still in use and which finds favor with those 
of the old time : 

" It is proposed by the Women's Centennial Executive Committee 
to issue for the International Exhibition of 1876 a ' National Cookery 
Book.' It is designed to make this work purely American, ex- 
cluding, as far as is possible, the receipts common to all nations. The 
products of our country are more varied than those of other lands, 
comprising numerous articles in common use at our tables, partially, 
if not wholly, unknown to the inhabitants of the Old World, or used 
by them only as luxuries. The varieties of climate give to each section 
its own peculiar products, but the facilities for transportation, which 
bring to our doors even from far-off California its delicious fruits 
and vegetables, render the resources of the table common to all, 
and therefore national. 

" For this object we ask the aid of the women of America, without 
which we could scarcely accomplish our work, and this it is our 


ambition to receive from the daughters of every State and Terri- 

" No receipt will be considered too homely, if characteristic of 
the country. Dishes peculiar to rich and poor, — to hunting, fishing, 
or exploring expeditions, or to camp-life, etc., are desired. If 
comical and at the same time good, so much the better. Our aim 
is to give the true savor of American life in all its varieties. 

" Soups, fish, shell-fish, meats, game of all sorts, cakes, pastries, 
puddings, sauces, preserves, canned fruits and vegetables in their 
endless varieties, give us unlimited resources. Of our beverages 
alone — already world-renowned — we hope to obtain a choice collec- 

" The Executive Committee are anxious to begin at once upon 
this book, contributions are therefore requested without delay. 
" Address Mrs. E. D. Gillespie, 

" President of Women's Executive Committee, 
" 903 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, Penna." 

Before this appeal was issued I had gone as far west as 
St. Louis, having visited Pittsburg and Chicago, where 
I was most cordially received and our plans for women's 
work were heartily endorsed. Organizations were 
formed at once in all these cities, and the efforts of these 
women were even greater than our own. In New Eng- 
land, Ohio, and Illinois the States were canvassed by 
earnest women, who employed every means to arouse 
patriotic interest. In one case a swollen stream in Illi- 
nois was forded by a delicate woman that she might 
keep an engagement to lecture in behalf of the great 
national anniversary. The appeal for the " National 
Cookery Book" was received with much favor. We were 
gratified to find receipts for cookery come flocking in 
from North and South, so that the binding of that book 
contained not only the best means to prepare our food, 
but also to restore kindly feeling, which was still alive 
in the hearts of all of us, though for a time it had slept. 


Many letters came to us from the South from our 
co-workers there, all showing great interest in the pro- 
posed celebration of the birth of the nation. A propo- 
sition was then made that we should recall the useful 
lives of the women of the eighteenth century by publish- 
ing a book containing sketches of their characters and 
their deeds, under the title of " Worthy Women of our 
First Century." We invited Mrs. Owen J. Wister and 
Miss Agnes Irwin, both of Philadelphia, to take charge 
of this work, and they did so admirably ; the following is 
the " list of the Worthy Women," and also a list of the 
writers of the sketches : 

Mrs. T. M. Randolph (of Virginia), by Miss S. N. Randolph. 
Mrs. Philip Schuyler (of New York), by Miss S. F. Cooper. 
Mrs. Samuel Ripley (of Massachusetts), by Miss Elizabeth Hoar. 
The Women of New Hampshire, by Mrs. Francis W. Fiske. 
Mrs. Rebecca Mott (of South Carolina), by a lady of South 

Deborah Logan (of Pennsylvania), by Mrs. Owen J. Wister. 

This book was published and much sought after, and 
we hope that many a good work has since been under- 
taken through the example of our " Worthy Women." 

Meanwhile, great anxiety was felt by all interested in 
the Exhibition with regard to the passage of the bill 
then before Congress appropriating three million dollars, 
the amount necessary for carrying the project to a suc- 
cessful issue. 

We knew that there was opposition to the bill, and 
knew also whence that opposition came. Mr. John 
Welsh and other members of the Board of Finance were 
in Washington urging the claims of the Exhibition for 
national support when my Committee proposed that I 
should go to Washington with Mrs. Frank M. Etting, 


hoping that the influence we possessed might be exerted 
and felt for good. We went, and had the promise of help 
from several Senators and members of the House, but 
our firm friend was Senator William B. Allison, and, 
as I shall hereafter show, he brought to us our final 
success. Mrs. Etting and I were called away from Wash- 
ington by a telegram from a member of the Board of 
Finance, Mr. Clement Biddle, which ran thus : " Can 
thee be in thy office on Monday morning at ten o'clock ?" 
This was received on Saturday evening. I answered, 
" Yes, with pleasure," and on Monday morning we met 
a Committee of the Board, who told us that Congress 
found there was not enough money in the Exhibition 
treasury, and were therefore uncertain as to their action. 
Mr. Biddle added, " It is absolutely necessary that we 
shall promptly have an additional million dollars secured 
to us, and the only method is to have City Councils 
appropriate this sum. They will only do this through 
petitions, which must be signed by our citizens. We have 
prepared the petitions, but we have no organization to 
obtain the signatures, and thee has. Will thee use it?" 
I gladly said " Yes," for I felt not only that the cause 
would prosper, but that an hour of triumph was in store 
for the thousand women who were working with us 
as aids. Mr. Biddle further said that they hoped the 
petitions could be signed before Thursday In the same 
week, as. If they were laid before Councils on that day, 
the appropriation would probably be made on the Thurs- 
day following. The Ward Chairmen were Instantly tele- 
graphed for " urgent business," and met that afternoon. 
They called their aids to their own houses for that evening, 
and left us armed with their many petitions, and we glad 


that there were such women in the world. On Thursday 
morning at eleven o'clock the Chairman and many of the 
aids returned, bringing in all eighty-two thousand signa- 
tures to the petitions, many of which were tied up with 
red, white, and blue ribbons. They were laid before 
Councils on Thursday at noon, and on the following 
Thursday the million dollars were granted. Then we all 
drew a long breath, but soon again our breath came quick 
and short, for Congress was still obdurate. Every one 
who met me said, " Do you think you will ever get your 
money?" With my heart in my shoes I always said, 
" Yes." Mrs. Etting and I returned to Washington, 
and were present in the House of Representatives when 
our bill was defeated. We were in a horse-car, going 
from the Capitol, in which were seated a Senator whom 
I only knew by sight and Mr. Tremaine, of New York, 
whom we did not know except by sight. The Senator 
said, " Tremaine, why did you support that miserable 
Philadelphia bill?" " Because," answered Mr. Tremaine, 
" I think it only just and right, and that Philadelphia 
is entitled to the appropriation." I have no doubt that 
my face showed my satisfaction at this last remark, but 
it was of short duration, for the Senator said, " We should 
not have had as much trouble to defeat the bill if it had 
not been for two ' praying women' from Philadelphia." 
I looked at Mrs. Etting, but her face was composed and 
quiet. I wish I could have been as immovable as she. 

I do not remember, nor have I any memorandum of 
the date, when at last Congress did open its heart and 
lend to the Exhibition one and a half million dollars, 
and glad am I to state that after the Exhibition ended 
this sum was returned to the national treasury. Mean- 


time, the same friends who had asked me whether I 
thought I would ever get my money met me again and 
said, " I am so glad we have our money." I did not 
quite understand the proposition that it was my money 
when there was none and theirs when it came. 

All these days were dreary enough, cheered only by 
the added interest of the women all over the country. 
I had gone to Boston on the invitation of Mrs. James T. 
Fields, the head of the work in Massachusetts. The 
organization in Boston was copied exactly from ours 
in Philadelphia, committees being at work in fifty-four 
cities or towns in the State. Mrs. Ellen Call Long, 
the member of the Executive Committee of Florida, had 
issued a stirring appeal to the women there. About 
this time our Executive Committee was enlarged by the 
addition of one woman from each State, and this one 
woman stood at the head of the work in her State. 
Ten towns in Connecticut came willingly and ably to 
help Philadelphia in her work, General Havvley, the 
President of the Commission, inspiring them through 
a powerful appeal to do their duty. The work in the 
District of Columbia was begun through Mrs. Bouligny, 
but the burden and responsibility rested on Miss Olive 
Risley Seward. The State Committee of Illinois had 
for its President the wife of the governor, Mrs. Bever- 
idge, and Committees were organized in seventeen coun- 
ties and four cities. In Maine, the women were working 
in seven cities through the influence of Mrs. Bion Brad- 
bury, of Portland. In Missouri, fourteen cities and 
towns were aroused to a sense of their duty and were 
working bravely. 

Thus far all went well, but early in the year 1875 Sena- 


tor Allison wrote me that the cry still went up in Washing- 
ton that the Exhibition was a Philadelphia affair, and that 
unless it could be proved that there was lively interest in 
the undertaking felt in the other States, the international 
feature of the Exhibition would be taken away. Senator 
Allison also added that if the women's organization could 
give proof that other States were taking an active part 
in the undertaking a different decision might be reached. 
This was terrible news, for when did women ever con- 
tend against the narrow views of men and conquer? I 
wrote my fears to Senator Allison. He asked me if I 
were willing to come before the Appropriation Com- 
mittee of the United States Senate and give proof that 
there was active interest aroused throughout the coun- 
try. This I said I would gladly do, and he wrote me he 
would telegraph me the day and hour. From that mo- 
ment I gave up all thought of work at home and began 
to think of the women-workers for the Exhibition, who, 
through their names and their works already accom- 
plished, would be likely to influence the decision of the 
Senators. Several of these worthy women of our second 
century were then in Washington with their husbands 
who were members of Congress. I sent to New Eng- 
land for one or two to join me here and await the 
summons. In all I found thirteen besides myself. I 
proposed Mrs. Frank M. Etting because she was a Mary- 
land woman. Finally at six o'clock one evening the 
summons came calling us to appear the next morning 
at ten o'clock before the Committee. I telegraphed the 
ladies who were in Washington to be ready to be called 
for at half-past nine, and gathering those who were here, 
we set off in the midnight train. I had armed myself 


with letters from the members of eleven State Commit- 
tees, hoping- most from the letters from our Southern 
sisters. I never felt so keenly before 'about a public 
matter. It seemed to me and to the members of my 
home Committee that the country would be disgraced 
if, after the invitation to assist in an International Ex- 
hibition had been extended by the President of the United 
States to foreign countries, it should be withdrawn. We 
reached Washington early in the morning in a pouring 
rain, and after breakfast went in carriages to gather our 
allies. The whole fourteen reached the Capitol. I sent 
my card to the chairman of the Committee, Mr. Morrill, 
of Maine, and we awaited his summons. It came, and 
when I introduced the ladies by their names and the 
names of their States, the Senators looked astonished, 
and had to pause a moment to find chairs for us. Then 
Mr. Morrill said, in a kind voice, " I suppose, Mrs. Gil- 
lespie, you have come to ask us for money." I told him 
we had come, not for money, but to convince the Com- 
mittee that there existed strong interest in the States 
outside of Pennsylvania in the International Exhibition. 
I then asked permission to read extracts from a few 
letters, which, as well as the presence of the ladies who 
were with me (none of them from Pennsylvania), would 
prove the truth of my assertion. The desired permission 
being given, I read as follows : 

" Tucson, Arizona. 
" I believe that every American woman shall feel that she is called 
upon to join heart and hand in making the coming Exhibition the 
crowning memorial of our national independence ; for all, irrespec- 
tive of sex, have enjoyed the blessings which have been so bountifully 
bestowed upon us as a people, 

" Mrs. L. C. Hughes." 


" Silver City, Idaho Territory. 
" I shall certainly be glad to number myself one among you in this 
national work, and shall endeavor to fulfil the duties the position 

"Mrs. W. I. Hill." 

" Waterville, Maine. 
" I am a true lover of my country, and believe that upon the 
observance of its national anniversaries we may place our estimate 
of the patriotism of its people. Any people too poor to celebrate 
the birth of freedom are ready to bend their necks to the first 
despot who may command it. 

" E. S. Cameron." 

" Hamilton, Monroe County, Miss. 

" Having seen your name as ' President of the Women's Cen- 
tennial Executive Committee,' I address you as one of your Southern 
sisters who are desirous of aiding in the association if there is an 
opening for us. 

" My ancestors were instrumental in gaining the independence 
of our country, and I never have ceased to look with pride upon all 
that would add to its further glory and honor. Let me know if 
there is anything we can do in our humble way. 

" Mrs. Fanny Q. Willis." 

" Corinth, Miss. 
" Your appeal has been received. We accept the position as 
members of the Committee from this county of Mississippi, — Alcorn, 
— and send you greeting and Godspeed in your noble work. One of 
this Committee lost a father, and another lost two brothers, all 
killed in battle in the late war. And we have until recently regarded 
you, ladies of the North, as our bitter foes. We regard this under- 
taking, in which you are taking the lead, as calculated to unite us 
all in a national enterprise, in which we can lay aside all sectional 
and local prejudices and show to the world that, though we heartily 
joined our husbands, fathers, and brothers in the late hostilities, 
we can now unite with you in the manner best calculated to lay 
a foundation for a permanent peace, and at the same time show to 
the world what we women of America are capable of. 


" We send you greeting and encouragement in your noble work, 
and promise you any and every aid that may be in our power. 

" Respectfully yours, 

"Mrs. B. C. Stanley, 
Mrs. W. p. Curlee, 
Mrs. J. N. Bynum." 

" Natchez, Mississippi. 
" I am sanguine of success and am earnestly at work, praying 
fervently that God will bless our undertaking with the joyous sight 
of peace as our presiding Deity ; and witnessing the fruits of toil 
from the hands of Northern women and Southern women side 
by side, we may feel that they are united in their hearts in 1876. 

"K. S. Minor." 

" Houston, Texas. 

" The contemplated celebration of our Centennial has claimed my 
deep interest, not only on account of the patriotic reminiscences 
of the past, but because of my solicitude and earnest hope for the 
future, of which this anniversary seems to me a peaceful presage. 

" I will endeavor to see that Texas does no discredit to herself 
or her sister States, and though her past history may seem to place 
her rather as a Mexican step-daughter in the family, yet I am 
confident she will prove that, like Naomi, she only went down for 
a time into the land of the strangers, and when returning brought 
up a true and lovely Ruth, fully instructed in the ways of Israel 
(the patriots of '76). 

" M. J. Young." 

Extract from an appeal to the women of Florida : 

" Tallahassee, Florida. 
" The invitation of the Auxiliary Committee to the women of 
the South to aid in glorifying our country's greatness is not a 
courtesy extended, — it is a recognized right in which we are 
admitted. At Lexington, Camden, and Yorktown our sires fought 
side by side, and gave their strength and lives for the whole country. 
In the city of Philadelphia, on the 4th of July, 1776, a Congress 
resolved itself into a committee of the whole to consider and to 
pledge themselves to the maintenance of a treasonable act ; and in 
signing the Declaration of Independence Carroll, Jefferson, Lee, 
and Rutledge put in jeopardy their lives equally with Hancock, 
Adams, Livingston, or Franklin. 


" We have so long accustomed ourselves to the feeling that we 
are ostracized from our country's bosom, her affections, and even 
her protection, that I know it is difficult to revivify the pride of 
allegiance; but let us gather once more with our sisters of the 
North, East, and West under the parental wing. And let us raise 
our voices with the whole nation in praise that * our lives have 
fallen in pleasant places,' and let the hills echo with the rejoicing 
of the spirit of peace. 

" Ellen Call Long." 

" San Francisco, California. 

" We now have a Committee of thirty earnest women, whom I 
have succeeded in interesting. Though proud of California, still, 
some other spot they call by the dear naine of home ; and interests 
are somewhat divided. Then the present population have had all 
the weeding and work to do with this mixed mass. 

"As the subject is being agitated here for the first time to any 
extent, it will take a little while before all the differences of opinion 
will be settled and every one satisfied that it is not a Philadelphia 

" We held our first meeting since the organization yesterday 
afternoon, December 8, and one hundred and fifty dollars was paid 
in for fifteen shares of stock sold, — the first of the women's work. 

" Mrs. McCrellish." 

During the reading of these letters the Senators Hs- 
tened attentive!}^, and three of them asked the addresses 
of the writers. I gave them the desired information 
with great pleasure, and then we rose to leave. Mr. 
Morrill said, " Ladies, pray be seated for a moment." 
We all fell back in our chairs again. He then whispered 
something into the ear of each man whom we supposed 
to be inimical to the undertaking, and each one bowed 
his head in answer to the whispered communication. 
He then said, " Ladies, it is due to you to tell you that 
the international feature of the Exhibition will not be 
taken away." We all thanked him and everybody 
warmly, but each one of us felt that the salvation of 


our Exhibition was due to the kind and just effort of 
Senator Alhson, and from our hearts we said, " God 
bless him!" We took our leave, and in the lobby out- 
side we found the agent of the Board of Finance wait- 
ing for us. His first question was, " Mrs. Gillespie, 
did you get any money?" " We asked for no money," 
I answered. " Well, what did you get ?" said he. I 
answered, " The promise that the international feature 
of the Exhibition will not be taken away." With not 
a very pretty preface he said, " I have been here six 
weeks trying to get that, and a parcel of women succeed 
in not many minutes." We left him, hoping that the 
result would be satisfactory. We left for home de- 
termined to redouble our efforts, especially in behalf of 
our own department, and with not a little pride in our 
hearts that women had thus far borne a large share in 
the work of preparation for the great anniversary. We 
planned and plodded on, sometimes much encouraged, 
but when women as well as men would say to us, " What 
is the use of raising woman through her work?" we 
were often depressed. When we now, in the year 1900, 
look at the many useful positions held by women, we 
can say of our Women's Department, " Her works do 
follow her." 

By this time we had made arrangements for an ex- 
hibition of historic relics of the early days of the history 
of our country. A large house was loaned to us for 
a month, on West Rittenhouse Square, and in it the 
exhibition was held. Every one responded to our call 
for relics, and though the pecuniary results were not 
great, the show kept alive the interest in the coming 
show of 1876, and all those who lent their treasures 



came to see that they were conspicuously placed, and 
all went well. We had some time before obtained per- 
mission to have made at the United States Mint some 
medals of silver with the head of Martha Washington 
on one side and on the reverse side " In honor of the 
Women of the Revolution." These medals sold rapidly, 
and the Board of Finance had larger medals struck bear- 
ing different pictures and different inscriptions, which 
were also sold, and all these devices served to keep the 
coming Exhibition before our people, not only to arouse 
their pride, but to strengthen their determination that 
it should prove a success. 



In 1875, early in April, I was asked to meet the Boston 
Committee on April 18. An invitation was also sent 
to me to be present with my daughter at the ceremonies 
attending the Centennial Anniversary of the battles 
of Concord and Lexington on the 19th of April. I ac- 
cepted these invitations gladly, and with my daughter 
reached Boston on the evening of the 17th, and on the 
morning of the iStli met the Committee. There were, 
I presume, twenty or thirty ladies present. They were 
most cordial and sympathetic, but always referred knotty 
questions to me. I did what I could to solve these ques- 
tions, but was not surprised to hear afterwards that the 
original " Lady from Philadelphia," whom we read of 
in the story of the Peterkin Family by Miss Lucretia 
Hale, was myself. Just before the meeting closed, I 
was told that the business men of Boston knew very 
little of the Philadelphia men composing the Board of 
Finance, and before they were willing to enter largely 
into the project of the Exhibition they desired to be 
better informed. They then asked me if I would repeat 
to a larger number of people than those who were present 
all that I had told them. I said " Yes" gladly, supposing 
that the meeting would take place in a private house 
as heretofore. The next morning bright and early we 
were taking our breakfast at the Parker House, ready 
to go to Concord first and afterwards to Lexington, when 
my daughter, taking up a newspaper, said, " Mother, do 


look!" There was an advertisement, decorated with 
flags, announcing that at eleven a.m. on the 20th a 
great mass-meeting would be held in Horticultural Hall 
in behalf of the Centennial Exhibition to be held in Phila- 
delphia in 1876. The notice obligingly added that the 
meeting would be addressed by Mrs. E. D. Gillespie, 
of Philadelphia, and that the governor of the State 
would preside. I felt ill and thought I must go home 
at once, but my daughter insisted that I must stay and 
tell the meeting (which she was sure would be small) 
just what I had said in the private houses I had visited. 
We went to Concord and to Lexington. I tried to listen 
to speeches of which I heard not a word and to music 
which to my distracted brain was out of tune. I was 
amused at Concord, for the guests of the gentler sex 
had been invited to assemble at the town-hall and there 
await the carriages which were to carry us to the public 
meeting. Miss Louisa Alcott and several other ladies 
received us most cordially and we waited ! Carriages 
bearing men left the hall, but we were not summoned 
to follow. Miss Alcott walked up and down, uttering 
a few amusing and caustic remarks on the depravity of 
men, and finally we were called, and reached the meeting 
to find not a corner left for us. 

This did not, however, move me, for, alas ! I did not 
then follow the holy precept, " Take no thought for the 
morrow," but was living in terrible anticipation of the 
morrow when I was to appear for the first time as a 
public speaker, after more than half a century of com- 
parative silence. 

I returned to the Parker House to pass a sleepless 
night. The next morning some of the Committee called 


and took me to the town-hall, where there was already 
a goodly company assembled. I reached the stage where 
the rest of the Boston Committee were seated and was 
welcomed warmly. 

Governor Gaston took the chair, and in a very few 
and most complimentary words introduced me to the 
audience (whose faces were twirling before me as in a 
kaleidoscope) as the granddaughter of Benjamin Frank- 
lin. This somewhat restored me, and I felt bound to 
correct his mistake and tell the people that I was only 
a great-granddaughter, as I was not then ninety years 
old. This made the audience laugh, and, being more 
self-possessed, I began the history (as far as it had gone) 
of the Exhibition of 1876. I told of its success and of 
the many discouragements we had met, and while I was 
speaking, having, through my interest in the cause, lost 
all consciousness that I was in the presence of strangers, 
and being very warm, I said to my daughter, who was 
sitting in a corner, " Nelly, come take my coat off." 
While she was doing this I saw in the audience my friend. 
Rev. Phillips Brooks. A happy thought came to me 
then. I said that I had been told the day before that 
the business men of Boston did not know the men of 
Philadelphia who composed the Board of Finance, but 
that I saw one in the audience who could, and I was 
sure would, bear testimony to their character, and that 
I was proud to ask the Rev. Phillips Brooks to speak. 
Mr. Brooks rose and paid a willing tribute to the char- 
acters of the members of the Board of Finance, saying 
that they were the men who had made the business of 
the city of Philadelphia, who had conducted its educa- 
tional interests, who in many cases had had charge of 


municipal government, who had managed the philan- 
thropic and charitable enterprises for which Philadelphia 
was so famous. He closed his address by saying that 
Mr. John Welsh, the President of the Board, was the 
man of men who would have been selected by popular 
voice for the position which he then held.* 

The applause given to his remarks made me feel as 
if the Exhibition Buildings were already standing erect. 
The Honorable Charles Francis Adams was calkd upon 
for a speech, and said it seemed to him not proper for 
him, a descendant of one of the signers of the Declaration 
of Independence, to ask his countrymen to do something 
to glorify them. This made me feel wretchedly, as my 
great-grandfather was also a signer, and I had no idea 
of supposing even that through the Exhibition one mite 
could be added to his established fame, but when Dr. 
Loring and Mr. Nathan Appleton spoke, I felt relieved 
and glad when all was ended. Then Mr. Brooks came 
to shake hands with me, and assured me laughingly that if 
I would preach for him the next Sunday there would not 
be standing room in the church. I thanked him heartily 
and felt that he had once more been a good friend in 
the hour of need. 

In the afternoon a reception was tendered to me, and I 
may say bushels of beautiful flowers were sent, and with 
them came kind words from the donors. The kind words 
helped me then, and are with me still. The flowers I 

* This tribute to the men of Philadelphia was most gratifying 
and encouraging to me, and I need scarcely add that I blessed the 
man who uttered it and was glad that he was equally beloved and 
respected in Boston as in Philadelphia. 


sent to the hospitals, and I left Boston the next morning 
with the assurance that our cause would prosper, and 
with a heart full of gratitude that the memory of the 
poor lad, who left it in poverty, was kept green, not only 
through a bronze statue, but in the hearts of the people 
whom he loved to the end and never forgot, and who 
continued their respect and affection for him to his de- 
scendants of the fourth generation. 

I made a brief visit to Hartford and New Haven on 
my way home, and found all going well in Hartford 
through the influence of General Hawley, the President 
of the Commission, and in New Haven the Women's 
Committees were actively at work. At home all was 
going smoothly, and we hoped for a long rest during the 

But this cup of hope was soon dashed from our lips. 
On the nth of June, when I arrived at my office, I 
found two letters, one from Mr. Goshorn, the Director- 
General of the Exhibition, the other from Mr. Cochran, 
the Chairman of the Committees on Grounds, Plans, and 
Buildings, of the Board of Finance. I here insert them 
as follows : 

"United States Centennial Commission, 

" Philadelphia, June ii, 1875. 
" Mrs. E. D. Gillespie, President of the Women's Centennial Execu- 
tive Committee: 
" Dear Madam, — It is now obvious, from the demands that have 
been made by foreign countries for space in the Main Exhibition 
Building, that the space heretofore allotted to the United States 
in this building will be insufficient for the accommodation of all 
the articles that were originally intended to be displayed in it. We 
are especially desirous that the Women's Department shall be ample 
and complete within itself. 

" In view of this fact, and recognizing the noble and efficient 


work the women of the country have already accomplished in behalf 
of the Centennial Celebration, we feel encouraged to make the 
suggestion that it would be a most worthy and attractive feature of 
the Exhibition if they could secure a sufficient sum for the construc- 
tion of a separate building in the Park, which, with the articles 
they might contribute of their handiwork, would most fittingly repre- 
sent the position, energy, and accomplishments of the women of 
America. A building of this character could be eligibly located 
and devoted exclusively to the exhibition of women's work. Action 
on this suggestion should be had as soon as possible, so that timely 
arrangements may be made. 

" I have the honor to commend this proposition to the earnest 
consideration of yourself and associates throughout the country, and 
sincerely trust it will meet with a hearty approval. 
" I am yours very respectfully, 


" Director-General." 

" Centennial Board of Finance, 
" No. 904 Walnut Street. 

'" Philadelphia, June 9, 1875. 
" Mrs. E. D. Gillespie, President of the Women's Centennial Com- 
mittees : 

" Dear Madam, — I mentioned to you in the interview of Saturday 
last that the applications for space in the Main or Industrial Build- 
ing were multiplying so rapidly, not only from exhibitors from 
the States but the Commissions representing foreign countries ; 
and that notwithstanding the extensive area of the buildings (twenty- 
one acres), the space allotted to each must of necessity be less than 
they desire. This fact leads me to the conclusion that in the 
struggle for space the portion allotted to women's work, in which 
you and the noble women assisting you feel such a peculiar interest, 
will be curtailed to a smaller compass than any of us could desire, 
and place them at a disadvantage in their exhibits, and to remedy 
such a probable result I wish to state to the ladies' committees 
that it would, in my opinion, be in every respect better for them 
to occupy a building exclusively their own and devoted to women's 
work alone. 

" A building two hundred feet by two hundred feet, covering one 
acre, to cost, say, thirty thousand dollars, could be erected at a 
prominent position on the grounds, which would afford the ladies 
this amount of space without curtailment in any contingency, and 



which would give them the opportunity of arranging articles irre- 
spective of the classification to which all exhibits in the Main Build- 
ing will be subjected, and at the same time make women's work a 
more distinctive feature in the group of exhibits than could be 
possible in the vast building which all nations will occupy. 

" If the money in the treasury of the Board of Finance warranted 
this expenditure, such a building would be undertaken by the Board 
without hesitation ; but, as is well known, we already have con- 
tracts for main buildings and other necessary appurtenances of 
the buildings and grounds which will require a much larger amount 
than we have at command; and under this state of facts I venture 
to propose that if the ladies of the United States will raise the 
amount I have stated to erect a Pavilion Building, it will not only 
stand as an additional monument of their energy and earnest co- 
operation in the furtherance of the great occasion in 1876, but that 
it would for display, convenience, and in all other respects be found 
far more satisfactory to the ladies themselves. 

" Towards this all contributions raised by the ladies and paid 
into our treasury would be appropriated until the full sum was 

" Hoping this will meet with your approval, I remain 

" Very truly yours, 

" Thomas Cochran, 
" Chairman of Committees on Grounds, Plans, and Buildings of the 
Centennial Board of Finance." 

I was alone when I read those letters, and it was for- 
tunate that I was, for I have lived many years since 
and have never forgotten the utter misery of those first 
moments, for the women of the whole country were 
working not only from patriotic motives, but with the 
hope that through this Exhibition their own abilities 
would be recognized and their works carried beyond 
needles and thread. I felt disposed to rebel, for my 
co-workers had the promise through our Philadelphia 
organization that space in the Main Building was to 
be ours. Sober second thought came to me, and I knew 
unless we acted wisely the womankind in America would 


be filled with righteous indignation and their work be 
nowhere. When Mrs. Etting came in, I was ready to 
tell her that the only thing to do was to accede to the 
propositions contained in the letters. She agreed with 
me fully, as I had hoped, and I was glad, for her 
judgment was in all difficulties calmer than mine. 

Before we parted we decided that she and I would 
give up our summer holiday and spend the time in trying 
to collect the money requisite for our new building. 

I called the Executive Committee together and told 
them all that had happened. Some of them demurred 
more than a little, but finally all agreed to the plan Mrs. 
Etting and I had suggested. 

We then summoned the Ward Chairmen to meet us, 
and submitted the letters to their consideration. With 
the wisdom that had characterized their deliberations 
from the beginning, they were unanimous in favor of a 
separate building. They asked that the fund we had 
in our treasury (which we had gathered to use for the 
interior decoration of the space which had been allotted 
to us in the Main Building) should be taken for the 
first subscription towards our building fund, and also 
requested that I should write a circular letter to the 
organizations in the outside States asking for their con- 
currence in the plan. I give herewith the letter : 

"Office of the Women's Centennial Committees, 
" No. 904 Walnut Street. 

" Philadelphia, June 11, 1875. 
" Madam : 

" I submit for the consideration of your Committee the enclosed 
communications from Hon. A. T. Goshorn, Director-General of the 
International Exhibition, and Mr. Thomas Cochran, the Chairman 
of the Building Committee, Centennial Board of Finance. 


" The Committees over which I have the honor to preside have 
directed me to assure you of their wiUingness to co-operate in the 
undertaking suggested by the letters which accompany this; but 
before we make our own pledges we must be assured of assistance 
from those who will be equally interested with ourselves. 

" Contributions for the proposed building can be made either in 
large or small sums, and the names of the donors kept on record. 

" An early answer is respectfully requested by 

" E. D. Gillespie, 
" President Women's Centennial Committee." 

Up went my courage like the thermometer on a warm 
day. The letters were sent to the outside States, and 
the verdict returned was unanimous in favor of a sepa- 
rate building. My ally and I had battled with the heat 
and other inconveniences until the middle of August, 
and only then had we the certain assurance that the 
sum necessary for our building would be collected. 

Then weary and longing for rest, we never thought 
of employing a woman architect! and thus made our 
first great mistake. 



Our building was to cover one acre, and we gave 
the contract to Mr. Schwarzman, the architect of the 
other buildings. We paid over to the Treasurer of the 
Board of Finance the money we had received. Then Mrs. 
Etting and I left home, promising to return early in Sep- 
tember, when the plans would be ready for inspection. I 
had not been gone many days before I heard the praises 
sung of a woman architect in Boston, and I wished I 
could annul the contract with Mr. Schwarzman. To this 
hour I feel pained, because I fear we hindered this legiti- 
mate branch of women's work instead of helping it. 

I returned early in September as I promised, to find 
the plans, which were approved, and many applications 
for space pouring in upon us from abroad as well as 
at home. When the building was turned over to us 
completed on February 29, 1876, the space was nearly 
all appropriated, and in March the Chairman of the 
Committee on Space, Mrs. Henry C. Townsend, and her 
able assistant, Mrs. Charles H, Caldwell, began to ap- 
portion it. Their task was no light one, and admirably 
was it performed. The foreign Commissioners looked 
with keen interest on the novel spectacle of a " Depart- 
ment for Women's Work," and gave those in charge 
so much aid by word and deed that one-quarter of the 
building was set apart for the work of women of foreign 
countries. We saw constantly the young men who were 
the assistants of the English Commission. During the 


winter of 1875- 1876 they were accustomed to assemble 
at my own house on every Sunday evening. After tea 
they and my young people all sang hymns, telling me 
the while, " It felt like home." 

Meantime, others in the Committee were planning 
many things for the benefit of the whole Exhibition. 
We thought of the music for the opening day, and went 
to the Director-General to offer to pay the expenses of 
a large chorus if the other authorities would pay the 
best orchestra in the country, which was the " Theodore 
Thomas Orchestra." The Director-General told us that 
we would be obliged to secure the consent of the Execu- 
tive Committee of the Centennial Commission and of 
the Board of Finance before he could give his consent, 
but this consent I volunteered to gain, Mr. Welsh 
agreed gladly to secure the services of Theodore Thomas 
and his orchestra if the Executive Committee said " Yes," 
and Mr. Goshorn advised me to see each member of 
the Committee. This I did. One and all agreed to 
the proposition, one kindly gentleman assuring me that 
as I wished it " Theodore Thomson" should be the man." 
When this arrangement was made, we began the organi- 
zation of the chorus. We sent to every singing society 
in Philadelphia the following circular in order to secure 
the best singers to assist on May 10, 1876: 

" The Women's Centennial Committees respectfully inform the 
public that the chorus which is being formed under their auspices 
is for the opening ceremonies of the International Exhibition. 

" The Executive Committee of the United States Centennial Com- 
mission having chosen Theodore Thomas for musical director, the 
Women's Centennial Committee volunteered to assist Mr. Thomas 
by forming a chorus for the loth of May and by bearing the ex- 
pense of the same. 


" After consultation with the President of the United States Cen- 
tennial Commission, Hon. J. R. Hawley, and Mr. Thomas, it was 
decided to invite the co-operation of all the choral societies in the 
city of Philadelphia. This has been done, and a board of council is 
being formed, consisting of one member from each board of direction 
of the various choral societies, who with others will assist in form- 
ing a chorus ' creditable alike to the occasion and to the city of 

" Individuals having a sufficient knowledge of music but not 
connected with choral societies are invited to unite in the under- 
taking and to send their names to Mr. F. G. Cauffman (Chorus 
Inspector), 1102 Chesnut Street, at an early day, as Mr. Thomas 
is anxious the rehearsals shall begin as soon as possible. 

" In making this statement the Women's Centennial Committees 
appeal not only to the patriotism of the citizens of Philadelphia 
but to their pride in their home, and they feel sure they will not 
appeal in vain. 

" By order of the Committees. 

" E. D. Gillespie, 
" President." 

Our invitation was cordially accepted. Mr. Dudley 
Buck was appointed by Mr. Thomas the leader of the 
chorus, and weekly rehearsals took place in Musical Fund 
Hall. We felt repaid for everything we had done when 
we first heard Whittier's Hymn sung, and even now, 
when I think of the words, — 

" Our fathers' God from out whose hand 
The centuries roll like grains of sand," 

my faith revives with the sense of the littleness of all 
human plans and operations, whether they be made for 
municipal or national government, or for our own pur- 

In October our building was begun. Although there 
was no corner-stone laid our Committees met on the 
spot to see the first spadeful of earth taken out. We 


gave thanks that we were granted this privilege, hopeful 
that through our work other women would be benefited. 
Having space enough, we decided to have looms in one 
corner for ribbons and silks, and women weavers in 
charge of them. This required the addition of a steam- 
engine, and we built a little house for it outside, and 
engaged a woman engineer. The fertile brain of a 
woman writer, Mrs. S. C. F. Hallovk^ell, suggested the 
propriety of having a newspaper edited and printed 
within our walls. This plan was adopted, and most 
successful it proved. It was published weekly ; its name 
was The New Century for Women. It was from be- 
ginning to end a sheet that could be read by any young 
person without detriment. It is true it contained no 
account of a prize-fight, no ghastly tale of the turning 
on of gas for the destruction of any mortal life or lives, 
and no impossible picture of the " last Paris hint" in 
the shape of a tall hat with taller feathers, or worse 
still, with bunches of flowers supported by wires, only 
too evident to the beholder, and consequently not orna- 
mental. There were then in our daily press no pictures 
of " costumes de promenade" as there are now, when 
the sight of the contracted waist makes one's breath 
come thick and short, and we are lost in wonder as to 
the sensations of the wearer whose picture in the public 
press looks like a note of interrogation. Our paper, 
written, edited, and printed by women, contained only 
what was calculated to instruct and amuse the reader. 
Mrs. S. C. F. Hallowell and her able assistant, Miss 
Stockton, carried this branch of the work to a successful 
issue and to the delight and satisfaction of all interested. 
The same engine which moved the machinery for the 


looms moved also the printing-press for The New Cen- 
tury. A newspaper commenting during the Exhibition 
upon this " new industry for women" said, " You should 
have seen the engineer sitting in the little engine-room 
answering the questions of the bystanders. She said 
her labor was not as exhausting as taking care of an ordi- 
nary cook-stove, that it required about one hour's actual 
work per day. She had just picked up the necessary 
knowledge with regard to the construction of her charge 
Avhile working in a factory. ' But do you do all the 
work ?' asked a visitor. ' Everything, from lighting the 
fire in the morning to blowing off steam at night,' was 
the quick reply, and she was then receiving a larger salary 
than a teacher in one of our country schools." 

The Woman's Medical College in 1875 applied to us 
for space for a pharmaceutical exhibit in our Depart- 
ment; the request was not only readily granted, but 
means were placed by us at the disposal of the faculty 
of the College to carry out their desire. It was planned, 
arranged, and made perfect by the hand of a woman 
(Dr. Clara Marshall), and we were not surprised at the 
commendations showered upon it by visitors, especially 
foreigners, who called Dr. Marshall a *' model woman," 
which she was then, and still is. 

The British Commission, I think, awarded the prize 
for the best pharmaceutical exhibit to this one in our 

The portion of the building occupied by the Ohio 
exhibits attracted the greatest attention, and we were 
not surprised, for if there had been no exquisite wood- 
carving and china-painting, the work of Mrs. Wormley 
would have attracted much notice. Her husband. Pro- 


fessor Theodore G. Wormley, the author of " The Micro- 
Chemistry of Poisons," wanted illustrations for his book, 
which his wife made. When they were finished they 
were sent to New York to be engraved, and were sent 
back to Ohio with this message : " These lines are too 
fine for us. The person who did the drawing had better 
do the engraving," and she forthwith learned engraving, 
and proud we all were to have her work and to hear it 
praised by our own people and foreigners. 

While I can give only a meagre description of the 
exhibits in our building, I must not overlook the head 
of lolanthe modelled in butter by a lady from the far 
Southwest of our country. It was a wonderful head 
and showed great talent on the part of the designer. 
None gave the artist her name, but every one called her 
the " Butter Woman," Fortunately, the lolanthe being 
blind did not see those who called her maker by this 
name, but the designer could not but be pleased with the 
praises given to her work. Miss Hosmer had hoped 
to finish the model of the Golden Gates she was pre- 
paring to send to England to Lord Brownlow, but she 
sent instead the model of a beautiful animal covered 
with gold-leaf, and with it came some extra sheets of 
gold-leaf, which she wrote to me were to replace any 
spots that might be left bare during the transit from 
Rome to Philadelphia. There were bare spots which 
I determined to cover, and accordingly left home one 
morning early to do this work. While I was thus en- 
gaged a little boy watched me, and finally called out, 
" Mother, come ; here is another Butter Woman !" 

Towards the close of the year 1875, we were asked if 
there would be space in our building for the exhibit of 



the kinclerg-arten system ; we knew our space was already 
pledged, and that we must contrive to contract instead 
of enlarging our boundaries, but being very anxious 
that this method of early education should obtain the 
same hold on the judgment of Americans that it had 
upon the common sense of the practical Germans, we 
offered to build a building for it outside and next to our 
building. Having secured the permission necessary for 
this we began, the organization in Pawtucket, Rhode 
Island, contributing largely to the expense. The sup- 
port of the school itself was borne and the work carried 
to a successful issue by the following-named ladies, who 
collected funds for the purpose : Miss Peabody, of 
Boston, Miss McDaniel, of New York, Mrs. Charles 
Willing and Mrs. Robert H. Hare, of Philadelphia. 
Many months prior to the opening of the Exhibition a 
teacher was placed by them in charge of a class of in- 
mates of the " nursery" in the Northern Plome for 
Friendless Children. This privilege was granted through 
the influence of Miss Louisa Claghorn, one of the man- 
agers of the institution and the Chairman of one of the 
Ward Committees. The pupils did ample justice to 
their excellent training. The constant crowed in the 
school-house during the exercises of the children gave 
evidence of the public interest in this system of early 
education, a system which now bears abundant fruits 
of its excellence throughout our whole land. 

In January, 1876, several ladies in New York became 
interested in the work of the Women's Department and 
came to Philadelphia only to have their interest increased. 
Mrs. General Cullum formed at once a committee in its 
behalf, and through that Committee great additions were 


made to the funds for the Women's PaviHon, and two 
large banners were exhibited on which were beautifully 
embroidered the coat of arms of the State and city of 
New York. These were hung on the walls of our 
Building, where they attracted much attention. They 
now, on state occasions, adorn the rooms in " Congress 
Hall," Philadelphia, where the second Congress in the 
history of our country was held. It is a sacred spot, 
for here General Washington made his Farewell Ad- 
dress, the words of which now ring in the ears of all 
loyal citizens in our land. 

The rooms in the early part of this century were 
turned into court-rooms, but in 1895 they were put 
under the care of the Pennsylvania Society of the Colo- 
nial Dames of America. 

This Society has restored the large room on the second 
floor to the condition it presented in the time of Wash- 
ington, and the number of visitors whose names are re- 
corded there from all parts of the world give proof that 
our government is held in profound respect outside our 
land and within it. 

Never shall I forget the night w^hich ushered in the 
year 1876. The streets were full of people for many 
squares outside of the State House. Men, women, and 
babies laughed, talked, and cried while waiting for the 
clock to announce the birth of the new year. We had 
accepted an invitation from Mr. Childs to come to the 
Ledger building, and there we saw the moving mass of 
human beings and heard their jubilant cries for many 
minutes. The bell which told us that our first century 
was dead and which heralded the birth of the new cen- 
tury, big with hope for us all, was not the old bell which 


"proclaimed liberty throughout the land" in 1776, but 
a new bell, the gift to the city from Mr. Henry Seybert. 
On December 17, 1873, I received the following letter, 
which I need scarcely say gave me much pleasure: 

" Philadelphia, December 17, 1873. 
" Mrs. E. D. Gillespie : 

" My dear Madam, — The accompanying gavel is made of the 
original timber of the supports of ' Liberty Bell' in 1776, when it 
first proclaimed ' liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabi- 
tants thereof.' In restoring this historical relic to its framework 
and placing it in its present appropriate position the carpenter found 
it essential to remove a small slice of the beams, and it is the desire 
of the Committee on the Restoration of Independence Hall to pre- 
serve even these cuttings. 

" At a meeting of the Committee your name and that of the Presi- 
dent of the Board of Managers of the National Museum were 
presented as of those who essentially Pliiladclphians were lending 
your aid to the illustration of the municipal motto, ' Let brotherly 
love continue,' — the true mission of the Centennial celebration in- 
scribed upon this symbol of authority which I have the pleasure 
of sending you. It will be in your hands the augury of that union 
for all good which knows neither sex nor section throughout our 
whole country and which you and your coadjutors are zealously 
efficiently promoting. 

" This gavel is the handiwork of an amateur workman, John L. 
Shoemaker, an active member of the Committee and the real pioneer 
of the Centennial Exposition, a fact which cannot but enhance your 
interest in this testimonial. 

" With assurances of high regard, I am on behalf of the Com- 
mittee which I represent, and personally, 

" Your friend, 

" Frank M. Etting, 

" Chairman, etc." 

The maker of the gavel passed from this life before 
the Exhibition opened, and the writer of the letter has 
since then followed him. 

The new birth of the nation brought freedom from 


anxiety to the women who were working for our Ex- 
hibition, for already had the members of our organiza- 
tion from the outside States begun to assemble, each and 
all bringing news of added interest in the celebration, 
thus easing the burden from our Philadelphia shoulders 
and helping us to lift our heads and see the bright pros- 
pect before us. 

We then rejoiced that we had our own Department 
in a separate building. The wives and daughters of 
several of the foreign Commissioners were already in 
Philadelphia, and from them we found hearty sympathy 
in our work. The daughter of Mr. Dannfelt, the Com- 
missioner from Sweden, especially interested us. She 
spoke our language, but not perfectly. There had been 
some difficulty about the space assigned to Norway and 
Sweden in the Main Building. The Commissioner from 
Norway, Mr. Christopherson, wanted more space, and 
so did Mr. Dannfelt, but these same difficulties existed 
between other countries and were adjusted. Bertha 
Dannfelt told my daughter and niece that she was un- 
happy about this matter, but finally each country gave 
way a little, though the relations between the two Com- 
missioners continued somewhat strained. Bertha came 
to us one day early in June to tell us that she was en- 
gaged to be married to Mr. Christopherson. Our sur- 
prise was great, and my first question was, " What 
does your father say?" "My father sat down and not 
know where to find himself," answered Bertha. I 
thought this a perfect description of her father's sen- 
sations when he had this startling intelligence announced 
to him. 

However, by the end of June Mr. Dannfelt had " found 


himself" and had given his hearty consent to the mar- 
riage being celebrated in America. The Managers of 
the Exhibition gave their consent to the ceremony being 
performed in " Judges' Hall" inside the Exhibition 
grounds. After the gates were closed to visitors one 
afternoon the preparations for the wedding began. The 
Hall was hung with the flags of all nations. There 
was then in our harbor a Swedish man-of-war. Mr. 
Christopherson chose one of the officers of this vessel 
and others for his groomsmen, and the bride invited 
Miss Nina Lea, Miss Sellers, and my niece and daugh- 
ter for her bridesmaids. The guests assembled. Among 
them were the heads of the foreign Commissions and 
all our own dignitaries. The marriage ceremony was 
performed by a clergyman from Sweden. It was a 
solemn occasion and a novel sight to us all. After the 
ceremony the young people danced. We all had supper, 
and the difficulties between Norway and Sweden were 
as quietly settled through " plum cake" as was the dis- 
pute between the " lion and the unicorn" of aforetime. 

Three entertainments were given by us during the 
winter of 1875- 1876, the profits of which were twenty- 
two thousand dollars, one-half of which sum went to 
the Board of Finance (according to mutual agreement) 
as a free gift for the purposes of the general Exhibition. 
The other half of the sum was retained by us towards 
the expenses of our own Department, which consisted 
of wages of our guards and other attendants, glass cases, 
and all things necessary for the proper display of our 

In October, 1876, I saw a notice in the Ledger which 
disturbed me, but the knowledge that if justice was to 


be found anywhere it would be granted in full measure 
in the columns of the Ledger, I sent the following notice 
to the editor, and was gratified by seeing it shortly after 
in print : 

" Women's Centennial Work. 
" Mr. Editor : 

" In the name of the Committees over which I have the honor 
to preside I desire to thank you for your just appreciation of their 
work, as shown in an editorial notice in the Public Ledger of Tues- 
day, October 5. 

" In the same article, however, you give the women of the country 
credit for subscriptions for Centennial stock for only twelve hun- 
dred shares, whereas eight thousand one hundred and five shares 
have been subscribed for through their organization, and the sum 
of eighty-one thousand and fifty dollars thus secured. Besides this 
amount, eight thousand six hundred and sixty dollars and eighty- 
seven cents have been contributed as a free gift to the general pur- 
poses of the Exhibition. 

" Three thousand six hundred and twenty dollars have been paid 
by the women's organization to the Treasurer of the Board of 
Finance on account of the sale of medals. 

" This brings the contributions from the women of the country 
to the general Exhibition to ninety-three thousand three hundred 
and thirty dollars and eighty-seven cents. 

" Besides these sums, fort3'-five thousand four hundred and nine- 
teen dollars have been contributed by the women of the whole coun- 
try towards the building of the Women's Pavilion, the Kindergarten, 
and the expense of the chorus. In short, all the expenses of the 
Women's Building were met by the Women's Committees, who 
planned and carried out this work which has contributed so largely 
to the advancement of women through their occupations." 

I must give a few incidents of the opening day. The 
sun shone brightly on May 10, 1876, and we were early 
astir. The last touches had been given to the inside of 
our building, and the blue ribbon which was to be pulled 
to start our steam-engine to set our machinery at work 
had been carefully attached. As the only persons of 


royal descent who had taken the trouble to visit America 
on this occasion were the Emperor and Empress of 
Brazil, it was proposed that after we had seen our Presi- 
dent, General Grant, start the Corliss engine in Machinery 
Hall, we would be glad to have the Empress of Brazil 
perform a like service for us in our building. This 
proposition was made a few days before the loth of 
May, and the invitation to the empress was conveyed 
through one of the attaches of the Brazilian Commission 
and accepted by the empress on the 9th. My Committee 
was anxious to have Mrs. Grant and the ladies of the 
Cabinet present at this little ceremony, but the consent 
of the empress came too late for us to do more than 
give these ladies a verbal invitation on the morning of 
the loth. Before Mrs. Grant arrived on the grand stand 
the same young Brazilian attache came to tell me that 
the empress feared that she would be too fatigued to 
go to the Women's Building. I then sat still and gave 
up all idea of a formal opening of our building. The 
music began while the high dignitaries were entering, 
and I was absorbed as was every one else. Never on this 
continent was there anything finer before or since. For 
those who heard it nothing more need be said. Those 
who heard it not can look forward to the future. The 
national airs of sixteen of the foreign countries repre- 
sented among us were played, having been preceded by 
the Washington March, ending with " Hail Columbia." 
Then followed the " Centennial Inauguration March" 
by Richard Wagner, which was one of the gifts of the 
women, then a prayer by Bishop Simpson, then ^Vhittier's 
Hymn, then the presentation of the Buildings to the 
Centennial Commission by the President of the Board 


of Finance, then the Cantata, by Dudley Buck, then the 
presentation of the Exhibition to the President of the 
United States, then an address to the President of the 
United States, after which the flag was unfurled. The 
Hallelujah Chorus was sung, chimes were rung, and 
amid peals of artillery the Exhibition was open. 

Then there was a march through the ]\Iain Building 
into the Machinery Hall, Scarcely had the ceremonies 
there begun when the same young Brazilian came to me 
to tell me that the empress had a great desire to open 
our building. From that moment I heard not one word, 
especially as he added, " Can you give an order for a 
carriage to come to take the empress?" I said that I 
would do what I could, and wrote a line on my card 
to Air. Welsh to tell him our dilemma, as carriages were 
not that day allowed inside the grounds. A guard made 
his way to Air. Welsh, and the order was given. I then 
went to the door, but the policeman told me the pressure 
of the crowd was so great my life would be sacrificed 
if I attempted to go out. AMien the doors were finally 
opened, the policeman took me out, and I found one of 
the guards, who took the order for the carriage. It was 
then impossible for me to see Airs. Grant, who with the 
President and officials was inspecting Alachinery Hall. 
I then made my way to the Women's Building, fearing 
that my Committee would have left, thinking it would 
not be opened that day. It seemed very long since the 
order for the carriage had been given, and at last the 
guard came to tell us that the carriage had come into 
the grounds, and Airs. Grant, thinking it was for her, 
had gone out accompanied by Airs. Fish, and that the 
empress was walking to us! This was frightful intelli- 


gence to us, for the lady was lame and the roads deep 
in mud from the heavy wagons which had passed over 

When the good lady, the empress, arrived, although 
her skirts were deeply fringed with American soil, she 
seemed not the least disconcerted. She was pleased with 
all she saw, started our machinery, took a glass of wine, 
wishing us all good for our undertaking and ourselves, 
and after resting, took a carriage which we sent for 
and went away, leaving me sorry for the contretemps, 
but glad I had seen a woman with so much enthusiasm 
and so much quiet composure. 

Thus the Exhibition opened. 

We were so much disturbed that the wife of the Presi- 
dent and the wives of the other high officials had not 
been with us when our building was opened that, in 
spite of the great fatigue I had undergone for the days 
and weeks previous to the loth of May, I determined 
to go to the reception Mr. and Mrs. Childs gave on the 
evening of that day that I might explain to Mrs. Grant 
the whole matter. This I did to Mrs. Grant and Mrs. 
Fish as they stood together. 

Time went on, and in every detail of our work we were 
prosperous, and even at this late hour we are told that 
through the efforts made by women in 1876 the women 
of 1899 are prospering through avenues of labor un- 
known then to them. 

We ourselves during these few years had prospered, 
for in many things we had learned our own ignorance, 
which an ancient wise man tells us is " great knowledge," 
but we folded our hands in November, 1876, glad that 
we had helped to open for women roads for usefulness 


hitherto untrodden, and that the thousands of women 
who had worked for the cause had gained for themselves 
the respect of mankind for their untiring zeal and their 
perseverance to the end. 

Before the close of the Exhibition of 1876 I had de- 
cided to return to Germany in 1877 in order to give my 
daughter a more thorough knowledge of the art of music, 
so that she might, at her earnest desire, become a teacher. 

Our friend, Dr. Hans von Bulow, had advised me 
to take her to Stuttgart, and there we proposed to estab- 
lish ourselves for a long period. 

The Women's Centennial Executive Committee held 
its last meeting early in April, and one of the Committee 
(Mrs. Richard P. White) asked me if I knew that Arch- 
bishop Wood was to sail in the same vessel on which 
our passages were taken. I told her I knew it, when 
she assured me I would be a " convert" before I reached 
the other side. I told her that, on the contrary, she 
would see in the American papers this announcement, 
" ]\Iarried, in Chester Cathedral (England), Mrs. E. D. 
Gillespie and the late Archbishop Wood." 

My daughter, my niece, Anne D. Duane, and I sailed 
from Philadelphia on April 26. The archbishop was 
on board, accompanied by six priests, all bound for Rome 
to celebrate the Jubilee of Pope Pius IX. Before we left 
Newcastle the archbishop greeted me and said, " I hear 
you and I have laid plans each against the other." I 
said " Yes," knowing my jest had been repeated to 
him. He assured me he should use every opportunity 
to accomplish his purpose. I answered, " I shall let 
matters take care of themselves," and with this compact 
our voyage began. The sea was calm when we lost sight 


of land, and I dined below. After dinner I went on 
deck, and finding my daughter asleep in my chair, I 
took a camp-stool, and had not sat in it many moments 
before its legs parted and I was landed on the deck. 
The archbishop was talking to one of his priests a short 
distance from me, and after I rose, he sent to ask me 
whether he might have the camp-stool. He took it and 
put it together apparently in good condition. The priest 
was sent below, and presently returned with another 
priest, to whom, as he spoke to him, the archbishop 
pointed out the camp-stool. The priest obediently sat 
down, but in a few moments shared my fate; and after 
laughing heartily the archbishop sent him below to bring 
up another priest, who sat down composedly in the same 
stool and fell as those who had gone before. Each 
fallen man went with alacrity to find another, and we 
all laughed together when the last fell. The weather 
was stormy for several days and I saw no one, but I sent 
daily by the stewardess a sprig of lemon verbena to the 
archbishop and received his thanks. 

When I was able to lie on the sofa in my state-room, 
the archbishop sent word he would like to read to me. 
I assented gladly. He came with the sprig of verbena 
in his button-hole, and after reading a little, talked to 
me earnestly of liis faith. I told him, in the several 
conversations we had, the objections I had to the Roman 
Catholic faith, and those objections he did not remove 
by argument. We had a strange set of passengers. One 
or two of the Church of England, a few Presbyterians, 
one Methodist, and three Quakers, one a preacher. On 
Sunday the captain asked the archbishop to preach. The 
cabin was full of listeners. The service began with an 


anthem sung by the priests, the sermon followed, and 
that sermon taught each and all their duty. The differ- 
ent beliefs, were only touched upon, not one word that 
could offend was spoken, and we were told that none 
of us could enter into happiness in the next world with- 
out fervent and constant prayer in this life. So passed 
our Sunday. No adverse criticisms on the sermon were 
heard, but I was much amused when, on Monday even- 
ing, the Quaker preacher came to ask me whether I did 
not think it improper for the priests to sing " Three Blind 
Mice," and I fear I fell in his esteem wdien I failed to 
agree with him. The archbishop and his priests landed 
at Oueenstowai. He laughed heartily when he said 
" Good-by" to me, because neither of us had met with 
success in our wide-apart plans each for the other, but 
I hold his memory in high respect. 

We landed in Liverpool and went at once to London. 
There I met many of the officials who had spent that 
hot Centennial summer, 1876, in Philadelphia. They 
all gave me a hearty welcome and entertained us in 
various ways. We were invited to see the " trooping 
of the colors" on the queen's birthday, and had tickets 
for the Caxton Celebration of the four hundredth anni- 
versary of the invention of printing held in Westminster 
Abbey. We also attended the then annual service in 
the Cathedral Church of St. Paul on Thursday, June 
7, 1877, when the charity children (five thousand in 
number) sang psalms and anthems. It was a novel 
sight and to me a novel sound, which gave me much 
delight, for the English children sang from their throats, 
and not as our American school-children sing (even at 
this day), through their noses. 


After we left London we visited many of the cathedral 
towns in England, and heard the great choirs with de- 
light. The country looked beautiful, but I do not de- 
scribe it. I cannot if I would. We made a visit in 
Derbyshire to the family of Mrs. Wister, of Philadel- 
phia, who crossed the Atlantic with us; and sorry were 
we to leave those kind friends. 

We then went to the Continent, and after a short 
stay in Paris went to Switzerland, where we spent a 
month at St. Gervais in a good pension in the company 
of our friends, the Misses Horner. This we enjoyed 
thoroughly, but at last we left them and began our jour- 
ney towards Stuttgart, stopping on our way at various 
spots of interest. We were two days in Interlaken. 
One was a rainy day, and as we could not drive, we 
contented ourselves walking through the village. We 
met there a large white Angora cat, which ran into 
a shop. I followed her, but a tailor who sat at his work 
seemed surprised when I asked for the cat, and said 
her home was a few doors away. We entered this little 
shop, and were told by the woman that the cat belonged 
to her, and that she had gone to her five kittens. I 
asked to see the kittens. A large round basket was 
brought to us holding nine white kittens, five belonging 
to the cat we had seen and four were her grandchildren. 
None of them had their eyes opened. Presently the 
grandmother came in, leaped into the basket, and took 
her four grandchildren by their necks one by one and 
deposited them on the floor, while she took care of her 
own offspring. She then left. The daughter came in, 
and turning her step-sisters and brothers out of the 
basket, restored her own to the basket and took care of 


them. We had never seen such an exhibition of natural 
history and were most anxious to have one of the kittens. 
The woman was quite wilHng to sell one for five francs, 
but I was afraid it might die, as it could not lap milk. 
When we returned to the hotel to dine, an English lady 
asked the girls what they had seen during the day, and 
they gave her so graphic a description of the cats of 
two generations that she told my daughter that in Eng- 
land, when there were too many lambs born for the 
mother to take care of, they brought up the rest by 
feeding them from a teapot with a piece of kid tied over 
the spout. My daughter was so delighted with this 
plan that I agreed to buy a kitten if we could find 'in 
Interlaken a doll's set of china. To my surprise I found 
it. We bought the kitten and named him "' Hans von 
Bulow." The little daughter of the owner of the cats 
wept at the thought of parting with a kitten, but her 
sorrow was allayed by the gift of the remainder of the 
tea set. 

Hans was from that hour an important member of our 
family. In crossing the Brunig Pass he opened one 
eye partially, and the little teapot fed him comfortably. 
When he grew a few days older and wanted more food, 
I frequently had to rise in the night and heat it over a 

At last we reached Stuttgart. It was a beautiful 
town, and the hotel was comfortable. My first great 
pleasure was seeing some regiments returning from 
their manceuvres, one of the bands played '' Johnny comes 
marching Home," and each man liad a sprig of green 
leaves in his hat. It was an unexpected sound to hear 
an American tune played by a German band. I wept 


and was glad. I presented my letters to the American 
consul, Mr, Potter, who turned us quietly over to the 
vice-consul, Mr. Richard M. Jackson, who not only took 
infinite pains to find us a satisfactory apartment, but 
who proved himself in many ways a kind friend ever 
after. I presented my letter to Professor Lebert, the 
head of the Conservatory of Music, and the girls began 
their lessons and their hard work. We had few friends 
and I was very homesick. We lived on a high hill, the 
windows of our house commanding a view of the city 
and of the railway station, through the open passage of 
which I hoped one day to pass to my home. The girls 
brought pitiful tales of the poverty of some of the Ameri- 
can pupils in the Conservatory. Many of them were 
teaching younger pupils to eke out the scanty sum neces- 
sary for their own living and for their tuition. The first 
great satisfaction that we had was in the invitations which 
my girls gave to these sufferers to come to us occasionally 
for a hearty American dinner, and their enjoyment added 
to ours. 

The concerts which we heard and the theatres gave 
us pleasure, and gradually the number of our friends 
increased. Our servants were excellent and soon learned 
to give us our food cooked in American fashion. 

Early in the winter of 1878 I was obliged to go to 
Italy on business. I went quickly and returned after a 
rest in Florence, having left my girls under the care of 
an old American friend. In returning over the Bren- 
ner Pass I met a lady, the wife of Professor Omboni, 
who lived in Padua. She spoke to me in French, and 
we carried on a lively conversation, she asking many 
questions after she knew I was an American. She spoke 


of the Exhibition of 1876 and of the work done there 
by the women of the country, and asked me if I had 
helped. I told her I had, and I confess I was amazed 
to find how much she knew about our country. 

The only other passenger in our car was a German, 
who struggled with French for a little, and then was 
silent until after the professor's wife left the train. Then 
he spoke to me in English, and we were friends. Just 
as our journey together was about to end he took from 
his pocket-book the photograph of a lady, which he asked 
me to look at. This I did, suspecting it was his wife. 
I admired the face and told him so, but did not ask him 
who was the original of the picture, when he burst out 
in these words : " Once I was mor-ri-ed. I am no longer 
it." He had my sympathy, though I never had had a 
bereaved widower communicate his sorrows to me in 
so few words which spoke volumes. 

I reached Stuttgart without adventure and found all 
well with my girls. Two American ladies from Provi- 
dence, Rhode Island, joined the American colony about 
this time (Mrs. Dunnell and Mrs. Floppin) with their 
children, and our intercourse with them was delightful. 
We had for our near neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Alfred 
Trevelyan. I was a little surprised one day to receive 
a visit from Mr. Trevelyan, who asked me to call upon 
his wife, then an invalid. This I did with pleasure, 
and I never saw or knew a more charming family. The 
elder girls were handsome, well educated, musical, and 
with delightful manners, more cordial than the English 
girls generally, and much less intrusive than the usual 
American girl. We were all fast friends ever after. 
I grieve to say that Hans, our cat, was not a favorite 



with our visitors, dearly as we loved him. He lapped 
his milk from one saucer, but he still clung to the taste 
of the kid which had covered the spout of the teapot 
in his early life, and consequently, if he found a glove 
lying about, he carried it to his saucer and enjoyed it 
and his milk together, leaving the saucer empty of milk 
and the glove often without thumb or finger. This 
habit we could not cure, nor could we reproach him, 
for had we not torn him from his mother's paws under 
the influence of a kid glove? He had one seat in the 
drawing-room, a most comfortable arm-chair. If he 
found that chair occupied by a visitor and we were in 
the room, he made no effort to possess himself of it, 
but sat at the feet of the intruder, gazing at him or her 
until the chair was free. If we were not present, he 
assaulted the occupant of the chair, and generally was 
successful. Once he inserted both of his fore claws into 
the legs of Mr. Trevelyan, who, when he called after- 
wards, always asked whether " Von Bulow was alone 
in the drawing-room," and if so, he waited until Hans 
was removed. This was natural, but until Hans was in 
his dotage his dislike to strangers remained. His love 
for me was strong. He weighed twenty-five pounds 
before he died, and if he saw me sitting down, he would 
leap from the floor to my shoulder, take the lobe of my 
ear into his mouth and go fast asleep. 

He looked longingly after us when we all went out, 
and after, I suppose, some deliberation, he decided he 
would also go out. Not being able to leave by the door, 
he jumped from the window of the third floor on which 
we lived and lighted on his feet. A friend of ours pass- 
ing at the time told us that he thought it was a pillow 


falling from the window, and crossed the street to 
rescue it for us, when to his surprise he found the 
pillow had legs, and used those legs to go to the front 
door and effect an entrance. He climbed the three 
flights of stairs, and waited at the door of our apart- 
ment until one of the servants opened it. His walk was 
short, and could not have been pleasant, yet like many 
a sensible person he was not taught by experience, but 
repeated his adventure at four different times and never 
injured himself. 

I had become acquainted with Professor Lebert, but 
he had not asked me to call upon his wife, fearing, I 
presume, that it might interfere with her household duties, 
for I understood that immediately after his marriage 
he set off alone on his wedding journey, leaving his wife 
to learn cooking during his ten days' absence. 

Professor Pruckner and Professor Morstadt both asked 
me to call upon their wives, and we were most hospitably 
entertained by both families to our great pleasure, and 
after some time Herr Morstadt came to me twice a week 
to speak English for an hour. To his great credit I 
must add, that after I had corrected him for any little 
fault he never repeated it, but showed me often by his 
words that he did not forget, but it belongs to the Ger- 
man race to improve and to endeavor to excel in all 
things. I had been suffering from sciatica and had called 
in a physician. Dr. Deahna, who in his treatment of my 
case was most skilful. He spoke our language well and 
was a charming companion. His wife only knew our 
language through books, and amused me often. When 
they were about to remove to another apartment she 
told me thus : " We shall no longer dwell in this abode," 


and some time after she wanted to explain to me the 
cause of her dismissing her cook, and said, " She does 
not work, she weeps much ; I think she is enamoured !" 

My days sometimes hung heavily on my hands with lit- 
tle to do, so, finding women much occupied with painting 
on china, I had a teacher, and enjoyed my lessons much. 
We had two pianos in our apartment, upon which my 
daughter and niece practised daily for four hours each. 
I sat at my painting in a room between the two per- 
formers, and grew so accustomed to the situation that 
I could listen first to one and then to the other, and 
knew how each was mastering the difficulties of her task. 
I went often to market, and conversed in German with 
the market-woman, who had three little children playing 
about her while she sold her fruit and vegetables. She 
was shabby and the children were ragged, but she told 
me she must work to support the family. I was sorry 
for her, thinking her a widow. I was more sorry when 
I found her one day giving money to a very jauntily 
dressed man with a light-blue silk cravat, whom she 
presented to me as " Mein mann." After he left I 
remonstrated with her about using her own life to sup- 
port him in idleness, and in a most pathetic voice she 
said, " But he is so beautiful." I made one other effort 
to place the German male sex on their proper level, and 
was singularly unsuccessful. 

I was passing one day through the " Markt Platz" 
when, to my horror, I saw a man with a whip in his 
hand chasing a woman and beating her across her shoul- 
ders as they both ran. I ran after them, and when they 
turned into a house I followed, finding them mounting a 
narrow stairway while the beating still went on. I 


called out, " How can you do so?" in my best German. 
Both turned upon me, and I continued my reproaches 
to the man. He was silent and I hoped ashamed, when 
the woman called out, " Mind your own business; he is 
my husband, — he can whip me if he pleases." I need 
scarcely add that I took no part in the conjugal rela- 
tions of any after that. I had seen such devotion be- 
tween husband and wife in Berlin that this tyranny 
astounded me. 

Time, which never stands still, went on finding us 
all more contented with out lot; friends were added 
to us, and one family interested us particularly. The 
Vicomte de Proenga Vieira, with his wife and son, 
from Portugal, we saw often. The son, Andre, came 
almost daily to see us. He was a pupil of the Poly- 
technic School and very clever. To our near neighbors 
under the same roof I fear we were often a nuisance. 
Indeed, we were once notified to leave one apartment 
because we had a dancing class of half a dozen children 
once a week between five and six in the afternoon. The 
landlord told me most kindly that the occupants of the 
floor below us objected to so much noise so late; as 
they were permanent and we only transient tenants, 
we must give way. The rules for the closing of houses 
were most strict ; the lower door must be locked by nine 
P.M. Each tenant had a key to the house street door, 
but if a friend stayed beyond nine o'clock, the unfortunate 
tenant was obliged to descend with the guest, open and 
close the door, and unless by special permit of the police, 
no piano could be used aften ten p.m. I invented a plan 
to obviate the necessity of going myself down and up 
three flights of stairs. I crocheted a bag of pink twine, 


into tlie bottom of which I put a large bullet, and fastened 
to the top a very long cord. We looked at the clock 
when any guest left us, and if nine o'clock had passed, 
we gave the guest the house key, with the request that 
he would place it in the bag which we would lower to 
receive it. Down went the bag weighted by the bul- 
let, and when the key was deposited it was drawn up 
in safety. One night Andre de Vieira was at the house 
and stayed until ten-fifteen. When he left the key was 
as usual given to him, and the bag lowered from the 
window to receive it. Andre waited to see the window 
closed, when down dropped the bag and key at his feet. 
The lodger in the room below our drawing-room had 
stretched a long arm out of his window, and with a 
pair of shears had cut the cord, which was being wound 
up ; hence the result. " Early to bed" was then the 
motto of the southern Germans, but there were few 
pleasures which belonged to late hours at that time. 

The English and Americans formed a society for 
giving " private theatricals" in a hall in Stuttgart. I 
was invited to become a member and entered with vigor 
on the arrangements. We gave one or two very suc- 
cessful plays, when, at one of the meetings, an English 
lady said to me, " I think you could act if you tried." 
I told her that I had tried, and that the play " Wood- 
cock's Little Game" had been the play I had liked best, 
but that I could not personate " Mrs. Carver" without 
my dear American friend, Mr. Samuel Spackman, as 
" Woodcock," and I must decline with thanks, as he 
was then our consul at Bruges and could not leave his 
post. The very next morning I received a letter from 
Mr. Spackman telling me he had been transferred to 


Munich and was almost our neighbor. I instantly pro- 
posed that he should come to Stuttgart as " Wood- 
cock," and his answer was, " In the language of my 
adopted country I say, yah, yah, yah." I made this re- 
port to the committee, selected the dramatis pcrsoncc, and 
the play was rehearsed and given. Our audiences had 
previously consisted of our friends, English, Americans, 
and a few Germans. The entrance fee was small and 
was used for the necessary expenses of the performances. 
When there was a surplus it was given to charity. Mr. 
Spackman, his wife, and a friend came from Munich a 
day or two before, so that we might all have a full re- 
hearsal and the play go smoothly. I was surprised to re- 
ceive a request from some members of the Royal Family 
of Wiirtemberg that they might be allowed to be present. 
The committee said " yes." The arm-chairs usual on 
public occasions for royalty were placed in front and 
the play began. The hall was full of guests. The young 
people acted well and thought, naturally, that the applause 
was meant for the actors and actresses, but I imagine 
that a little of the excitement was due to the presence 
of the members of the Royal Family, and I felt compas- 
sion towards them, because instead of the fun we were 
having, their only compensation was chairs with gilded 

Meantime, the music lessons went on, and the improve- 
ment with my young people astonished me. During the 
winter of 1879 I had a severe attack of bronchitis. One 
Friday night my daughter was awakened by my crying 
out in my sleep. Coming to my room, she quickly 
aroused me and asked what I had been dreaming. I 
told her I thought the house was on fire, and that I had 


siezecl my money and my letter of credit, and had tied 
Hans up in his basket. She commended me for my 
prudence and advised my going to sleep. I was sitting, 
on the following Monday afternoon, painting by the 
window looking into the court-yard, when I saw a cloud 
of smoke passing. I arose frightened, and without find- 
ing out where the smoke came from, I carried out the plan 
suggested by my dream, and had barely put Hans into 
his basket when my daughter came in from her lesson 
and almost breathless told me the house next door was 
on fire, and that seeing the smoke and flame coming from 
the roof while she was in the street, she had entered the 
house and given the alarm to the inmates up to the top 
floor, because those who lived on the lower floors, where 
she went first, preferred to pack their own possessions 
to informing their neighbors of the danger they were in. 
I felt guilty, for had I not sinned in the same way? A 
fire in Stuttgart at that time was most strange. It was 
long before any engines came, and when they did come, 
the fire was attacked by small pumps carried up the stairs 
to our roof, and the water was then sent across the nar- 
row passage between the houses. The roof of the burn- 
ing house was gone then, but the volume of water sent 
soon extinguished the fire, and the house was put into the 
hands of watchmen. The next day the insurance agents 
came and deliberated a long time before the amount of 
damages could be decided. 



In 1878 we were invited to spend our Easter holidays 
with our cousins, Baron and Baroness von der Heydt, 
in Berlin, and accepted the invitation gladly. These 
dear cousins and friends, with one not less dear (Alice 
Patterson), had come to Philadelphia at the time of the 
Exhibition of 1876, when my cousin, Edward von der 
Heydt, told me that he, being the treasurer of many of 
the charitable institutions in Berlin of which the Empress 
Augusta was the head, it was therefore his duty, as well 
as pleasure, to take leave of Her Majesty before going 
to America. During this interview the Empress told 
him that her interest was strongly aroused in the part 
which American women were taking in the Exhibition, 
and in the results which were hoped for, in advancing the 
interests of woman through her work. The Empress 
then added, " I wish you to say to the lady at the head 
of the Women's Department that my sympathy is with 
her and her co-workers. I have written her name but 
cannot pronounce it." She handed to my cousin a slip 
of paper on which my name was written. He told Her 
Majesty that he would give the message with all the 
more pleasure, as Mrs. Gillespie was a cousin of his wife, 
and had spent two years in Berlin. The Empress ex- 
pressed regret that she had never seen the head of the 
Women's Department, and requested that if Mrs. Gilles- 
pie ever returned to Berlin she should be informed. 

We reached Berlin during Holy Week, and after heart- 


ily greeting us, Baron von der Heydt said, " Yoii know, 
my cousin, that I must obey the wishes of our Empress 
and inform her that you are here." 

Accordingly a note was sent to the secretary of the 
Empress, Count von Mohl, telhng him I was in BerHn. 
An answer was soon returned requesting Baroness AHce 
von der Heydt to accompany Mrs. Gillespie to the palace 
on the following Monday at noon. We obeyed the 
summons, and found one of the ladies-in-waiting ready 
to receive us. She took us through some of the royal 
apartments, and then we returned and found the Empress 
ready to receive us. She knew my cousin well, and 
her greeting of me was most kind. She took both of my 
hands in hers, and said in clear tone and beautiful English, 
" This is the lady I have wished so much to see." I 
thanked her, and she spoke of the benefit which our 
Exhibition had already brought to women, and alluded 
to the work of the women of America in such flattering 
terms that I forgot she was an Empress and said, " I 
really think you are mistaken." She smiled, my cousin 
alid the lady-in-waiting smiled, and I, knowing I had 
blundered, felt embarrassed, but the Empress soon turned 
and said, " Would Mrs. Gillespie like to see the room 
where I live?" I was truly glad, and we entered a most 
cosey room, where books and work were lying, showing 
that an empress takes pleasure in matters womanly, and 
where also the portraits of her family hung on the walls. 
Pointing to the portraits, the Empress said, " I suppose 
you know some of these." I told her I knew the Emperor 
and the Crown Prince Frederick, and she called my at- 
tention to the portrait of the Grand Duchess of Baden, 
saying, " That is my daughter. If you knew her, I 


am sure, Mrs. Gillespie, you would love her." Thus 
ended an interview which gratified and charmed me. 
A few days after I received a note from the private 
secretary of the Erhpress, Baron von Mohl, and a package 
containing a brooch, which I was asked to accept from 
the Empress " in memory of a most delightful interview." 
The note further added that the Empress asked that I 
would never fail to inform her if I should be in any 
part of Germany where she might be. The pin in front 
has the eagle in gold, with some small precious stones, 
and on the back is engraved the crown of the Empress 
and the letter " A." When I wear it I am reminded 
not only of the royal giver, a much respected and most 
charitable woman, but it recalls two of the happiest years 
of my life which were spent in Berlin, and brings before 
me the faces of relatives who contributed so largely to 
the happiness of us all. Some have passed from this 
life since to their own rest. God bless them all ! 

We spent the summer of 1878 in Homburg, where I 
was advised to go by Dr. Deahna for the cure of sciatica. 
We established ourselves in " lodgings" and I began the 
" cure." We knew nothing of our fellow-lodgers. I 
only knew that the room next to our sitting-room was 
occupied by a man and his wife. I had seen her once 
or twice and thought her one of the saddest-looking 
women I had ever seen, but I ceased to wonder at her 
sadness after I heard her husband speak. Mr. John 
Lambert, of Philadelphia, and his son John were pass- 
ing the evening with us in our parlor. We had been 
talking over our adventures and laughing heartily over 
some of them, when two blows came against the door 
which separated us from our neighbors; it was evident 


that two heavy boots were thrown, and the boots were 
the forerunners of these words : " Stop your laughing 
and noise, you are nothing but a party of American 
loafers, or I will make you." We made no answer. 
Our guests withdrew, and we also, but the next morning 
I told our landlady that we should find other lodgings 
and for what cause. The landlady assured me that such 
an offence would never again be committed and urged 
me to remain. Then came the wife of the man who had 
insulted us. She was in tears and most unhappy. I 
knew that the sadness of her face, which I had noticed 
when I first saw her, had a cause. I pitied her and over- 
looked the crime of her husband for the sake of the 
wife. We stayed in our lodgings and were never again 

I took my baths faithfully, but was not relieved from 
pain, and was accosted one day on leaving my bath- 
room by an English lady thus : " Have you not sciatica?" 
I answered, " Yes." " I thought so," said my friend, 
" I heard you giving such careful directions about the 
temperature of your bath ; but," she added, " you will 
find no relief; take a tablespoonful of whiskey, pour it 
upon a little boiling water, and swallow the mixture when 
it is very hot." I did this five times, after I left Hom- 
burg, when an attack of pain was coming on, and found 
my unknown English friend was right. I have scarcely 
suffered since. 

I had much amusement in Homburg from the con- 
versations of the English ladies. When the band was 
playing, one young woman, who had evidently not been 
married long, said, in speaking of pets, " I like parrots 
better than anything, but he is such a brute, he will not 


have a parrot in the house. I think parrots cleverer 
than many human beings, at least they see a joke more 
quickly." I heard an English lady talking of the beauty 
of Niagara Falls, when one of my own countrymen 
said, " Yes, there is right smart water-power there, but 
money could be made if it were used to move machinery 
instead of keeping the Falls only to look at." 

I little thought then that I should live to see one of 
God's greatest earthly works put to such unholy uses. 

I went to the library one day and asked for a novel 
called " Jenny of the Prince's." An Englishman looked 
up from his newspaper as I spoke, and when I was 
leaving, rose up and said, " I beg your pardon, madam, 
but will you tell me what ' journey of our princes' you 
asked for?" I explained to him it was "Jenny of the 
Prince's Theatre" that the novelist wrote. When I left 
him, I admired his loyalty to those holding positions 
in his country, and wondered what American would ask 
for an account of the journey of any of our men in high 
places ; but I forgot that our royalty are politicians, and 
that their journeys are undertaken mainly to secure 
votes ! 

I was taking refuge one day from the rain in the 
" Kur Haus" when it was much crowded. Shortly after 
I entered a woman rose and left her chair ; after waiting 
a few moments, supposing she would not return, I took 
the chair she had occupied. She returned without my 
observing her, and seating herself in my lap, she said, 
" Erlauben Sie mir." (Allow me.) 

I left Homburg without regret, and returned gladly 
to our home-life in Stuttgart. 

I had heard once or twice from Dr. von Bulow, and 


had told him that our dear Hans bore his name; but 
I had not seen him for two years, when one day came 
a letter telling- me he was to give two recitals in Carls- 
ruhe, and proposing that my daughter and I should meet 
him there; and he added, "If not asking too much, I 
beg you will bring my godson with you." We accepted 
this proposition gladly. Hans stepped quietly into his 
basket, as was his wont when he saw it, for his summers 
were spent at Merklingen, where our maids went for 
their holiday. We reached our destination, and were 
comfortably established in a sitting-room with Hans 
asleep on a sofa, when Dr. von Bulow came. After 
greeting us warmly he went to the sofa, and I trembled 
lest Hans should resent the intrusion, but instead he re- 
ceived the caresses ofifered him most amiably, and both 
in five minutes were fast friends. 

When the evening recital was ended Dr. von Bulow 
came to bid his namesake " Good-night," and with a 
collar limp from the effort he had made to give delight 
to us all through his music, he knelt before the cat, laid 
his head on the white fur, and was rewarded for his 
kind " Good-night" with a loud friendly purr, which 
convinced me that animals know well who loves them. 

We continued our journey with Dr. von Bulow as 
far as Freiburg in Baden, and we all parted with regret, 
after hearing two more recitals and seeing further proofs 
of affection between Hans first and Hans second. 

We saw constantly throughout our stay in Stuttgart 
our first friend, Mr. Jackson, the young American vice- 
consul, and my respect for him increased as time went 
on. One day he came to see me looking pale and agi- 
tated. Presently he said, " I want to confide something 


to you. A strange thing has happened to me." I told 
him I was ready to hear it, and he began thus : "I was 
walking in the Anlagen when I met the King. I raised 
my hat and passed on. Presently I heard my name called, 
and turning saw the King advancing towards me. He 
accosted me, to my surprise, most kindly, told me he had 
heard good accounts of me and would like to know me 
personally. I thanked him and he left me." I con- 
gratulated my young friend on the good character he 
had established, and remembering that " Haroun al 
Raschid" disguised himself and talked with the com- 
mon folk in his kingdom when he was tired of courtiers 
and flatterers, I felt glad that the King had had a 
respite also, for I had frequently seen him in his open 
barouche with two generals (their bosoms covered with 
orders) facing him with their eyes fixed on him, re- 
minding me of our own police in our own Black Maria. 
Shortly after Mr, Jackson told me that he had a letter 
from the King, telling him he wanted to know more of 
him and of his views in life, his pursuits, etc. The King 
added that he was going to the south of France for the 
winter and would like to correspond with Mr. Jackson 
on all these points. The King went. I heard through 
Mr. Jackson often of his welfare, for their correspond- 
ence would have filled volumes, and felt glad for both 
men that they had a bright spot in their lonely lives. 
One day Mr. Jackson told me that the King had asked 
him whether he knew a lady in Stuttgart who was a de- 
scendant of Franklin; grateful once more for the many 
favors which had been shown me in foreign lands on 
account of my great-grandfather, I was glad that the 
King was interested in his granddaughter, but the end 


of the story must be told. When the King returned he 
had a beautiful apartment in his palace fitted up for Mr. 
Jackson, and gave him the position of private secretary. 
This created great excitement in Stuttgart and much 
gossip. Many were the tales told of the first meeting 
of the King and Mr. Jackson, most of them wonderful, 
none of them true, but I never contradicted one of 
them. I knew that the King and Mr. Jackson knew 
and understood each other and that both loved music, 
that there were two grand pianos in Mr. Jackson's draw- 
ing-room, and that there they played, read, smoked, and 
talked together. 

We spent our summers usually in Switzerland, and once 
made a visit to our friends, Mr. and Mrs. William Piatt 
Pepper, at San Moritz. We enjoyed there not only the so- 
ciety of friends and the scenery, but I was especially enter- 
tained with the English guests at the hotel. They asked all 
sorts of questions about our own country, our manner of 
life, our churches, our schools. Our answers seemed to sur- 
prise them much, and I sometimes thought they imagined 
me a direct descendant of Baron Munchausen. One rainy 
morning I sat alone with my work, and was accosted by 
an English lady with a title. After asking me how, when, 
and where I was educated, what food we ate, all which 
questions I answered quietly but with rising choler, she 
turned to her daughters, who were amusing themselves 
in a corner near by with some young men, and said, " My 
dears, do not giggle so much. People will take you for 
American girls." My anger got the better of me, and I 
said, " I think no such mistake will be made if people look 
at their feet." The lady was amiable enough to laugh, 
but I think neither she nor I dreamed then that after a 


few short years " American girls" would be eagerly 
sought in marriage by impecunious young Englishmen 
with titles. 

After much deliberation we decided to spend a part 
of the summer of 1880 by returning to Oberammergau 
and seeing once more the Miracle Play, which had so 
deeply impressed us in 1870. We found there the same 
religious feeling among the villagers. Some of them met 
us as old friends, and we were entertained as hospitably 
and as economically as before by the natives, but, alas! 
English agents had meanwhile come to the village and 
had arranged quarters for strangers for which exorbitant 
prices were charged. The villagers were so indignant 
at this that they refused to allow the occupants of such 
places to secure tickets for the Miracle Play. The public 
press, however, held the villagers responsible for the 
change, but we knew the truth, and after seeing the sol- 
emn ceremony once more, and seeing Josef Meyer again 
impersonate the Christ, we left the place grateful for our 
privileges, and again deeply impressed with the solemn 

From Oberammergau we went into Switzerland, and 
from Loeche les Bains we proposed to cross the Gemmi 
to Kandersteeg. We found that crossing this pass on 
horseback was forbidden because of terrible accidents 
which had there happened. So we engaged good guides, 
and with our young friend. Amy Dunnell, began our 
march. We left Loeche at one p.m., reaching the summit 
about six in the evening. There was a small house there 
where we had food, but there were no accommodations 
for the night. No one at Loeche had told us that we 
might have ordered saddle-horses from Kandersteeg to 



meet us at the summit and carry us the rest of the way, 
so there was nothing before us but a long walk. We 
were tired then, but tramped on, our guides encouraging 
us, but I could take no comfort. The words of the psalm- 
ist rang in my ears, " With weary steps in mire I tread, 
my bones are out of joint." In that lamentable plight I 
felt myself to be when I sat down to rest, but the dark- 
ness was coming on and we must proceed. Mine up- 
rising was greater agony than my downsitting, and my 
daughter consulted the guides, who proposed hurrying 
on and sending a carriage to meet us at the farthest point 
possible for a carriage to come. This seemed a good plan, 
and we followed it, walking as fast as we could ourselves. 
After some time a guide overtook us carrying the property 
of some sensible travellers who had sent for horses for 
the next day. My daughter engaged him to accompany 
us and to give his arm to me. This he did with alacrity, 
and after a few flattering words on my having done so 
much, he said, " Mais, madame, qui vous a conseille de 
faire ce petit voyage, car, madame, vous etes vielle, senle- 
ment un peu, mais vielle." I knew he spoke truly, for 
was I not then nearly threescore years old, and had I 
not walked on that day twenty-three miles and a half? 
At last we reached the carriage, and in a short time drove 
to the hotel. Our guides must have represented my case 
as pitiable, for quite a crowd stood on the portico of the 
hotel to meet us, including not only the landlord but all 
the guests and servants of the establishment. 

I asked for my room and a hot bath, into which I 
poured a quantity of alcohol. I then ate half a chicken 
and drank half a bottle of champagne. My two girls ate 
their suppers down-stairs, and came up to amuse me with 


the questions that had been asked them, all tending to 
prove that Americans are or were a pecuHar people. 

I slept for fourteen hours after my walk, rose up and 
continued our journey towards Chateau d'Oex, where 
we again enjoyed the society of our dear friends, the 
Misses Horner, and of their sister, Madame Pertz. We 
also found there to our great delight my sister-in-law, Mrs. 
Anderson, of Scotland, her daughter and granddaughters, 
and several American home friends. Time flew there for 
all of us, but after a rest of some weeks we were obliged 
to turn our thoughts " homeward," as we then said of 

Some time before we had left for our holiday the 
professors of the Music School had proposed that my 
daughter should begin her life as a teacher by taking 
one of the younger pupils in the Conservatory under 
her care. This trust she had accepted with pleasure 
to herself and also with profit to her scholar, for when 
the examinations took place her pupil distinguished her- 
self. I thought that in this result something doubtless 
was due to the ability of the pupil, but I (as would 
all mothers) attributed a large part of her success to 
her capable teacher. 

We reached Stuttgart to find all things as usual, and 
began to work. About this time we learned that our 
neighbor and friend, Mr. Alfred Trevelyan, had suc- 
ceeded, by right of inheritance, to the Trevelyan estate 
and to the title of Sir Alfred. We were glad that this 
distinction should come to friends so dear to us and 
to one so worthy of it, for he was a noble man and a 
gentleman. No higher meed of praise can be given to 


Our last winter in Stuttgart passed pleasantly. We 
had plenty of work, plenty of friends, and much music. 
One entertainment stands out clearly in my memory. 
Sir Alfred and Lady Trevelyan invited their friends 
to pass an evening with them to see some tableaux vi- 
vants. The pictures were all admirably represented, 
but the one which pleased and interested me most was 
a perfect copy of the picture by Cabanel of " The Italian 
Poet," which is familiar to all. Sir Alfred with his 
eldest daughter Pauline represented the two listening 
lovers who face the poet, who was personated by Andre 
de Proenga Vieira, the youth of whom I have already 
spoken. A young Hollander and a young German com- 
pleted the group. I looked at the picture with delight 
and yet with pain. A large part of our happiness for 
nearly four years had been greatly due to three of those 
speaking figures, and we were all about to separate, per- 
haps forever, Sir Alfred and his family to go to his 
home in England, Andre to plod on in his career, and 
my daughter to begin hers in her own land. Sir Alfred 
was good enough to send me a photograph of that tab- 
leau. I often look at it and wonder what have been 
the paths in life which have been trodden by the German 
and the Hollander. I know in part the joys and sorrows 
which have come to the other silent figures in that 
tableau. God bless them! 



The whole world was shocked in the spring of 1881 
by the assassination of the Czar of Russia. To us 
Americans it brought the memory of the pain we suf- 
fered when our President Lincoln was assassinated. 
The people of Wiirtemberg felt the shock the more be- 
cause their then Queen Olga was the sister of the Czar. 

I had previously attended some of the services of the 
Greek Church held in one of the palaces, and I received 
with gratification a card of admission to the funeral 
service in memory of the late Czar. The service was 
most impressive and to me most peculiar. 

The Court and all the military dignitaries were there, 
as well as those who held positions of honor from other 
countries. The congregation was not large, for the chapel 
was small. A lighted candle was given to each one, 
and all knelt. The stillness was profound, and as I knelt, 
candle in hand, death itself seemed present. 

Public places of amusement were closed for a few days 
and then all seemed forgotten. Such is life and such 
is death in this life, for shortly after America and the 
world were again shocked at a second cowardly attack 
at one holding the highest office in the gift of the Ameri- 
can people, which ended in the death of President Gar- 

One day I was summoned to our hall to " some one" 
who wanted to speak to me. I found there a man dressed 
in the deepest black holding a long list in his hand. He 


wore a long coat reaching nearly to his heels, and had 
a black band on his hat with long ends, which I believe 
is called a " weeper." He told me he had come to invite 
me to the funeral of " Herr Schmidt," I asked if it 
were the funeral of the Rev. Mr. Schmidt to which I 
was invited. He answered, "No; it is an Englishman." 
I then, in much confusion with the German tongue 
and in dire distress, said, " Where does he live?" " He 
does not live at all; he is dead," was the solemn and 
yet crabbed answer. Then I remembered that I had 
met an English lady at the house of a friend whose hus- 
band was an invalid, and upon inquiry I found that it 
was to his funeral I was invited and to his late residence. 
Fearful of disturbing the annoyed beadle still further, 
I accepted the invitation to the funeral service. I knew 
nothing of the custom for strangers, on such an occasion, 
to wear mourning as well as relatives, and went in my 
ordinary black dress and bonnet, taking with me a small 
market-basket, for I was going after the services to 
market. I left the basket at the grocer's. My costume 
was completed with a pair of gloves of the brightest 
yellow, which a friend had sent me from Paris, and which 
she described as " very cheap." I thought so too when 
they came, but on this occasion they cost me much. 
When I entered the room, I found it lined with people 
in the deepest black. For a few moments I could see 
nothing. Then I groped my way to a seat. Then I 
saw my yellow gloves shining as the rays of the sun, 
and I felt that they were disrespectful. I did not know 
what to do, and finally I sat upon my hands. The ser- 
vice began, and in the midst of it I wanted to sneeze. 
I could not release my hands to prevent it, and in the 


vain effort to suppress it, through painful contortions 
of my lips, a sound like the roar of an animal burst 
from my unfortunate nose. All those present turned 
towards me. I nearly wept, and determined then never 
again to indulge in cheap gloves. 

We saw Mr. Jackson quite often. He seemed very 
happy in his position and surroundings. He called to 
ask me to go to see how beautifully he was established 
in his new home. This I did, and found all as my young 
countryman had described. He drove one day to our 
house, bringing with him a large basket filled with roses 
and an autograph letter from the King for me, which ran 
thus : 

" Madame : 

" I beg you to accept these roses. A friendly hand offers them 
to you on my part. These roses, madame, go to you, and say more 
to you than I can say myself. There exists in the soul of man a 
kindly interest for others, which is understood sometimes by those 
who have never had the pleasure to meet. 

" Charles, 
King of Wiirtemberg." 

The bearer of the note and roses was much gratified 
and so was I. The King's note was promptly answered 
and thanks given for the lovely flowers. A day or two after 
one of the pupils of the Music School came to our house 
ostensibly to ask some trivial question about the classes, 
but seeing the roses, she began to admire them. My daugh- 
ter agreed with her in thinking them beautiful, but did not 
mention who was the donor. After a few minutes the 
young lady (an American) said, *' Are these the flowers 
which we hear the King sent to your mother?" My 
daughter said, " Yes," when the young American said, 


" We also hear that your mother had not been permitted 
to go to Court, and the King, being sorry for her, sent 
her the flowers as a sop to Eusebius." My daughter 
suppressed her mirth until after the young lady left, 
when we enjoyed the joke together. 

Before Sir Alfred and Lady Trevelyan left Stuttgart 
they asked us to make them a visit at Nettlecombe Court, 
Somersetshire, that we might see them in their new 
home-life, and that we all might feel we were not then 
saying "Good-by." This I promised we would do be- 
fore we sailed for home. 

Our own hour of departure was drawing nigh, and 
our thoughts turned homeward with pleasure, though 
when I looked at the clean streets (swept by women), 
and remembered the far from clean streets I had left 
in my native city, I wondered whether the women of 
Philadelphia might not raise their voices against the then 
contractors, street-cleaners, and their methods. In Stutt- 
gart the women used the brooms. When the dirt was 
all carefully swept in piles, the men at once shovelled 
the piles into a wagon. 

There this is the inflexible rule of the city govern- 
ment, and woe comes to either man or woman who de- 
parts from it. The dirt is all removed ; nothing is left 
festering in gutters to breed disease as with us, and com- 
fort, solid comfort, is thus given to tax-payers and others 
in a city not governed " by the people," as is ours, but 
" for the people" of all conditions in life. No scattered 
sheets of paper were seen there, and no flower-pots were 
allowed at open windows, lest they should fall out and 
the life of the passer be risked. Would that my sisters 
in the city of Brotherly Love would turn their thoughts 


from the ballot to the broom! Then would our paths 
be clean and our way made clear where now all is dark 
and uncertain. 

Before we left Stuttgart I received from Dr. von 
Bulow a cat made of china, kissing its forepaw by way 
of farewell. As we drove to the station to the train 
which was to carry us from the place where we had 
spent four happy years, I remembered how eager I had 
been to leave that station after I first arrived, and when 
I found there many friends to wish us " God-speed," 
some with little gifts for us, I felt grieved to go, and 
left in tears. 

Our first stopping-place was Dresden, where I desired 
to have some lessons in the art of china-painting. In 
Stuttgart I had painted flowers of all sorts, and I now 
aspired to paint figures. The master in Dresden, after 
he had looked at my work, set before me a copy of the 
Santa Barbara, and I worked at a plaque for many hours 
each day. When I had finished it I was dissatisfied, but 
he and the whole class approved of it, and it now lies 
in a drawer at home in the dark. 

Before we left Dresden I had a reproachful letter from 
Sir Alfred Trevelyan asking where we were, and call- 
ing me a " naughty woman" for not going at once to 
Nettlecombe. He jested a little about my want of af- 
fection for the mother-country. I replied in the same 
vein, telling him that my only ideas of English country 
life among the gentry had been taken solely from Eng- 
lish novels, and that I was waiting to hear from my host 
and hostess the date when I should be welcomed, and also 
the day and hour when my visit at Nettlecombe should 
end. I added that I fully expected as I entered their 


avenue to meet Lady Augustus Dalrymple driving away, 
biting her lips with disappointment, because she and 
her daughter had been three days in the house with Sir 
Giles Ponsonby and he had not proposed to her daugh- 
ter, etc. 

We left Dresden with regret, and after a week passed 
in London, taking a last look at its wonderful sights, 
we went to Nettlecombe. Our welcome was most hearty. 
I wish I could describe the beauty of the place, but I 
cannot. I saw it in 188 1. I am writing in 1899. The 
great hall with its wide chimney-place, with seats on 
each side of it, the family portraits several hundred 
years old on its walls, the very high ceiling and the 
organ raised in a gallery half-way between the floor 
and the ceiling, are before me now. 

The lovely children of our hosts peopling with their 
parents this, to me, wonderful hall, will never be for- 
gotten. Then the outside beauty of the place. The 
old English church containing the tombs of the family 
ancestors lies close to the house, the beautiful trees, the 
high hills down which we used to watch the deer run- 
ning in the early morning, — all seemed like Paradise. 
Sir Alfred and his wife were Roman Catholics but hold- 
ing in respect the creeds of others. They had a chapel 
fitted up in the house for themselves and some of their 
servants, but the Communion service of silver belonging 
to the church was kept in the house, and given each 
Sunday morning to the sexton of the church from Sir 
Alfred's own hands. I was much moved when I saw 
this, and longed then, as now, for the time when we 
shall all have " one" mother church as we now have 
one hope. We attended service in the church and were 


shown to the family pew by the housekeeper, who sat 
behind us. I must not forget the flower-garden. It 
was the first I had ever seen where flowers were grouped 
together, as it were, in famihes. Many rose-bushes 
together, many hehotropes, many flowers of all kinds, 
so grouped that each flower had its own huge bed, with 
many roots. That method of planting I have followed 
ever since. Sir Alfred and Lady Trevelyan little thought 
when they were showing me their garden that " Sir 
Alfred's flower-beds" w^ould flourish in our garden in 
this far-off land, and even now make happy the American 
friends whom they loved. 

We found several guests in the house when we ar- 
rived, but I was given the place of honor at Sir Alfred's 
right hand at dinner, which pleased me much. Flowers 
for each guest were sent every afternoon to our rooms, 
and were worn with our evening toilet. We drove daily 
through the beautiful country, and in the house had 
music, books, visitors, and much happiness. 

One day Sir Alfred asked me if I would like to see 
the strong-room where all the valuable papers were kept. 
I said " Yes," and he took me to a room about eight 
feet square lined entirely with what seemed iron. The 
door was of iron, and the whole entirely fire-proof. I 
saw there certificates and deeds so old that I should be 
afraid to mention their dates, and many other curious 
papers. Just as I was about leaving the room I saw 
a very old " Receipt-Book" lying on the shelf (the only 
book in the room), and asked Sir Alfred if I might 
look at it. Finding the print belonged to the sixteenth 
century, I asked to take it to my own room. A few hours 
later, the first thing I opened it upon was " A certain 


cure for ague." It was the very same recipe upon which 
was founded my reputation in America as a physician, 
except that " plantain tea" was one ingredient instead 
of water. The recipe ended with these words : " And, 
by the grace of God, you will never have another ague." 
I felt as if I were in a dream when I read this most 
unexpected remedy in that very old mansion. 

I was very greatly surprised at the number of visitors 
who called upon me one day when I was summoned to 
the drawing-room. I said to Lady Trevelyan, " Why 
do these kind people want to see me?" She laughed 
heartily and said, " Because Alfred took your letter to 
many of our neighbors, and they were so much amused 
with your description of the life of our gentry that they 
all want to see you." So I was glad to be welcomed 
by the visitors, and we laughed together about the habits 
and customs of the two countries (mother and child). 

After two happy weeks spent at Nettlecombe we were 
obliged to leave, as our passages were taken for August 
29 from Liverpool. The parting from the friends who 
had been so kind to us was a trial. We stopped one 
day in Chester, and reached Liverpool and our steamer, 
to find on board a " Good-by" letter from Nettlecombe, 
signed by all the family, and a tin box filled with flowers. 
The letter told us of the regret of the whole household 
at our departure, and that the ladies (strangers as well 
as the family) wore no flowers at dinner on the day 
we left. 

We sailed on the 29th at the appointed hour; we had 
found our cats, Hans and Ophelia, in Liverpool await- 
ing us. They were glad to see us, and sorry when they 
were torn from our arms and placed in the butcher's 


quarters on the vessel; but I think their sorrow was 
turned to joy when they were regaled by the butcher 
with large pieces of meat, for they were lusty and healthy 
when they landed. Our voyage I shall not dwell upon. 

We landed in Philadelphia on the 7th day of September, 
1 88 1, one of the hottest days I ever experienced. One 
of our fellow-passengers arrayed herself for the landing 
in a crimson silk walking dress, a velvet bonnet of the 
same color piled up with feathers, and a sealskin coat. 
No custom-house official could have, on that day, re- 
proached her, for the tax of wearing such a costume 
on such a day must have been heavier than any tax ever 
imposed upon us by the government. We reached home 
safely, having been stowed into a carriage with our cats, 
Hans and Ophelia. The driver told me I owed him 
two dollars, and I produced a three-mark piece, which 
he declined to receive. My good friend and opposite 
neighbor, Mr. James Thompson, came to my rescue 
and satisfied the coachman with the money, but not, 
I fear, as to my sanity. We were soon installed. Hans 
took possession of the yard, and woe betided the pre- 
suming cat which crossed the fence to inspect the new- 

We had lived for four years in Stuttgart, and during 
that time had collected a good supply of household fur- 
niture. Some of these articles we desired to bring to 
America on account of their age (two presses having 
been made before, and hidden during, the Thirty Years' 
War), their beauty, and the associations they had for 
us during our happy years in Stuttgart. We sent these 
by a freight vessel for Philadelphia, and shortly after 
our arrival I inquired when the vessel would arrive. 


Finding it was then due, I went to the custom-house, 
and was most kindly and courteously received by the 
then collector of our port, Hon. John F, Hartranft. I 
took my oath with regard to my expected freight, and 
Mr. Hartranft told me he would write to the Secretary 
of the Treasury and ask that my goods might be sent 
directly to my home and examined there. The consent of 
the Secretary was given at once, and late the next after- 
noon the freight arrived. Some of the cases were too large 
to come into the doorway of our house, and as I had 
promised not to touch anything until the arrival of the 
custom-house officer, I left them perforce on the pave- 
ment outside. Rain coming on in the evening, we had 
them covered with carpets, and in the morning found 
that the carpets had been carried away ! 

The examiner came the next day, opened all the cases, 
and found everything as described in my lists and bills. 
Then came the work of unpacking, in which our oppo- 
site neighbor, Mr. William W. Curtin, most kindly took 
part and helped us as only a man can. We were soon 
settled, warmly welcomed by home friends, and began 
our lives anew. My daughter entered upon her career 
as music-teacher, for which I was assured she was amply 
prepared, though she was told by her former master 
and friend, Dr. von Bulow, and also by the professors 
in Stuttgart, that to be a good music teacher she must 
hear good music. I am now inclined to think that those 
gentlemen then knew the musical status of Philadelphia 
better than I did myself, and were giving me a note 
of friendly warning. Be that as it may, we found firmly 
established in the " Academy of Music" a " Star Course," 
consisting of lectures and various so-called " musical 


entertainments," but real music there was none. The 
" Musical Fund Concerts" which had given so much 
dehght in former years were ended some time before. 
I spoke to my friend, Theodore Thomas, on the subject. 
He at once proposed to bring his orchestra to Phila- 
delphia and give there six concerts during the winter, 
giving his own services as director without salary, on 
condition that his orchestra should be paid; to these 
conditions I agreed, and we further decided that any 
profit should be equally divided. These concerts were 
continued for several years, from 1882 to 1891, con- 
stantly attracting larger audiences. In 1886 I had a 
visit from a gentleman who came introduced by the 
generous founder of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, 
Mr. Higginson. He told me that they proposed to bring 
the Boston Orchestra to Philadelphia to give some con- 
certs, and asked the favor of the use of my list of sub- 
scribers to send out their circulars. I consulted Mr. 
Thomas as to this proposal, and his answer was, " Yes, 
let the people of Philadelphia hear all the good music 

I was afterwards told by business men that in granting 
this favor to the Boston Orchestra Mr. Thomas and I 
had, to use a business term, parted with our " good will 
and fixtures without compensation," but neither the di- 
rector nor manager regretted for one moment this step. 
It gave the people of Philadelphia another opportunity 
to hear the best music, and their profit was our com- 
pensation. It was not long before Mr. Thomas remarked 
on the quiet which reigned in the house while the or- 
chestra was playing, and he added, " That is the applause 
which is most grateful to me." 


The work which Mr. Thomas and I both undertook 
was arduous and precarious, but I have been cheered 
in many a sleepless night, then and now, by the memory 
of the faces of the pupils of the Blind Asylum as they 
listened to those concerts. Thirty seats were given to 
them for each concert, greatly to their delight and to the 
satisfaction of both director and manager. I bore cheer- 
fully the expense and loss of four seasons; at the end 
of that time the profit to be divided between the director 
and manager was twenty-eight dollars. Once was a 
generous helping hand held out to me. The owner 
of that hand was one of our best and noblest citizens, 
George W. Childs. 

After each concert we came to our house for a quiet 
hour and a supper. Sometimes we brought a friend, 
sometimes one of the soloists came with us. Mr, Thomas 
told us many things about music which I had not known, 
and interested us more than ever in the lives of some 
of the great composers. One night stands out in my 
memory beyond the rest, though all were full of enjoy- 
ment. Mr. Joseffy came home with us, and after we 
had talked of many things, we spoke of Chopin's Funeral 
March. I said I thought the first part grand, but I did 
not like the trio, which seemed feeble after the opening. 
Mr. Thomas said, " You do not consider the time or 
circumstances under which this was written." He then 
asked Mr. Joseffy to go to the parlor adjoining and play 
the Funeral March. This he did so well that our neigh- 
bors arose from their beds, raised their windows, and 
told me afterwards they had listened with delight. I 
then asked Mr. Thomas to orchestrate the March, which 
he did during the fol1ov\'ing summer. He has since 


played it in many of our cities, where it has created 
so profound an impression that he has frequently been 
asked to repeat it, and has done so. 

The history of this, one of the most impressive of 
Chopin's works, I give here for the benefit of my reader. 
Few people are aware of the extraordinary circum- 
stances under which Chopin composed his famous " Dead 
March." The story is told by the Paris correspondent 
of the London Morning Post. It seems that the inspira- 
tion came to Chopin in the studio of M. Ziem in the Rue 
Lepic, and was suggested by a story told him by the 
artist. M. Ziem had been one evening to the studio of 
Prince Edmond de Polignac with Compte de Ludre and 
M. de Valdrome. There was a skeleton in the studio, 
and among other Bohemian whimsicalities Prince Ed- 
mond placed the skeleton on a chair in front of the piano 
and guided its fingers over the keys. " Some time later 
on," says M. Ziem, " Chopin came into my studio, his 
imagination haunted by the legends of the land of frogs 
and besieged by nameless shapes. After frightful night- 
mares, during which he had struggled against spectres 
who threatened to carry him off to hell, he came to me 
for rest. His nightmares reminded me of the skeleton 
scene, and I told him of it. His eyes never left my 
piano, and he asked, ' Have you a skeleton ?' I had 
none, but I promised to have one that night, and so 
invited Polignac to dinner and asked him to bring his 
skeleton. What had previously been a farce," con- 
tinued M. Ziem, *' became, owing to Chopin's inspiration, 
something grand, terrible, and painful. Pale, with 
staring eyes, and draped in a winding-sheet, Chopin 
held the skeleton close to him, and suddenly the silence 



of the studio was broken by the broad, slow, deep, 
gloomy notes. The ' Dead March' was composed then 
and there from beginning to end." 

Mr. Thomas left the East in 1891 at the earnest solici- 
tation of his many friends in Chicago, where he had 
been listened to with delight for many seasons during 
a few weeks of the summer months. His friends in 
the East deplored his going, but felt that in Chicago 
he would be without business cares, and that he would 
be able to organize and train an orchestra of the highest 
standard of excellence. This he has done, and according 
to one of the first living musicians (Paderewski), he 
now leads the " Chicago Orchestra, which has no supe- 
rior in the world." This is a good and just reward for 
one who loved his art first and worldly goods last. After 
his last visit to the East I was glad to see in one of 
our papers, which had given always just criticism to 
his work, these words : " Have we not been ungrateful 
to Theodore Thomas?" I felt that we had. He it 
was who taught us what pure, good music is. He taught 
the people, and there are those who still give thanks 
for his teaching, which has at least lifted from many 
a soul thirsting for music the burden of life's cares, 
for who that has God's greatest gift, a soul for mu- 
sic, will not find comfort and relief in the midst of 
toil through the memory of a passage from one of 
the works of the great masters? His farewell concert 
in Philadelphia was given on April 14, 1891. The 
subscribers had asked for a " request programme," 
which was given. Mile. Clementina de Vere and Max 
Bendix were the soloists. The programme was as fol- 


Symphony, No. 7. A major. Op. 92 Beethoven. 

Aria, " Oh, grant me in the dust to fall" Dvorak. 

Violin Concerto. (First movement) Beethoven. 

Lohengrin : Elsa's Dream Wagner. 

Gotterdammerung Wagner. 

" Song of the Rhine Daughters" Wagner. 

Siegfried's Death and Funeral March Wagner. 

Thus ended, to the great regret of many citizens of 
Philadelphia, one of the highest privileges and greatest 
pleasures of their lives. 

The development of true appreciation for the highest 
class of music in our country has been slow, though 
there are many cities now claiming to hold the first 
place in such appreciation. This, I trust, shows the 
dawn of love for what is best in this world. 

The " Music Festivals" in Cincinnati and in Worces- 
ter have done their part in this matter. Of those in 
Cincinnati I may speak from experience. The orchestra 
and chorus, led by the master-hand of Mr. Thomas, leave 
with the audience a memory which nothing can efface. 
Would that our people would lay up for themselves this 
treasure which belongs to heaven, and think less of 
amassing the goods of this world, which they cannot 
carry with them! 

During the height of the success of the Exhibition of 
1876 a project was formed to create in Philadelphia 
a permanent memorial of that great work. After ma- 
ture deliberation it was determined to establish a Museum 
and School of Industrial Art modelled after the great 
English institution in South Kensington, London. Its 
name, even before its incorporation, was the " Pennsyl- 
vania Museum and School of Industrial Art." When 
its charter and by-laws were ready, the gentleman who 


framed them, Dr. William Pepper, had the kindness to 
submit them to me for my approval. On reading them, 
I found there was not the slightest allusion to the work 
the women of the whole country had done for the Ex- 
hibition. The compilers had even decreed that the 
Trustees of the proposed institution should be males. 
To this I sent an earnest remonstrance, claiming that 
our women had gladly given time, money, and energy 
to the cause, and that they should not be quietly put 
aside. The remonstrance had the desired effect. The 
position of Trustee is open to any woman nominated 
and elected by the corporators at their annual meeting, 
the corporators consisting of both men and women who 
are subscribers. 

After my return home in 1881 a request was made 
of me by the President of the Board of Trustees, Mr. 
William Piatt Pepper, that I should call together mem- 
bers of the Women's Centennial Executive Committee, 
and that under the name of the " Associate Committee 
of Women" we should again interest ourselves in work 
for the benefit of the " Pennsylvania Museum and School 
of Industrial Art." I did this gladly, and urged upon 
those present the necessity for keeping the people in mind 
of the work done by the women of the whole country 
for the success of the Exhibition of 1876; and as the 
institution for which our interest and assistance were 
asked was not only the outgrowth, but the solitary 
memorial, of that Exhibition, I impressed upon them 
the necessity of securing for both branches of it their 
hearty support, with the hope that both Museum and 
School might bear fruit equal in strength and usefulness 
to the tree which called them forth in 1876. 


My hopes were warmly seconded by each woman 
present, and after a short time the Associate Committee 
of Women began its active work. We were granted 
the power to choose our own co-workers, and also to 
make our sub-committees as large or as small as we 
pleased. We had in the hands of a Trustee, Mrs. John 
Sanders, Vice-President of our Committee, a large sum 
left from the women's treasury of the Exhibition, and 
this sum we gave at once to the Trustees for the uses 
of the institution. Thus began our work, and thus it 
continues. Some of our best and most earnest co-workers 
have fallen by our side, only to stimulate us to more 
earnest effort, and to cover, as far as possible, the dreary 
gap made through their ever-felt absence. 

The Museum was already established in Memorial 
Hall, Fairmount Park, and contained not only many 
beautiful articles purchased by generous citizens at the 
Exhibition, but also valuable gifts for the Exhibition 
from the exhibitors themselves. Extensive additions 
have been made to these collections since then. I can- 
not mention the names of the donors who are living, 
but I may speak of one woman, Mrs. Bloomfield Moore, 
who was deeply interested in the outcome of the work 
from its beginning, and who has left a monument to 
her own generosity and public spirit in the " Bloom- 
field Moore collection." One exhibit alone should make 
our hearts beat with honest pride in recognition of the 
energy and perseverance of another woman. -It is a 
copy of the pulpit of the cathedral in Siena. Crowds 
visit Siena to look upon this beautiful object. There 
is one copy of it in London and another in the Museum 
at Berlin; but to Philadelphia alone belongs the privi- 


lege of having the column and stairway to the pulpit 
copied, and this favor was granted by the authorities 
of the church to Miss Brewster, of Philadelphia, who 
was one of the foreign members of the Women's Cen- 
tennial Committee. She wrote me that when she first 
asked the consent of those in authority they shook their 
heads doubtfully, but she persevered, and finally the 
matter was left in the hands of one dignitary. He had 
been determined against granting her request, saying, 
" Why should I show this favor to a small place like 
Philadelphia, when it is not given either to London 
or Berlin?" But the worthy gentleman consented at 
last, the stairs are in Memorial Hall, and while her 
co-workers live it will stand there in memory of the 
love she bore for her native city, which was carried to 
her grave by Anne Plampton Brewster. 

The pulpit is most beautiful and admirably placed in 
Memorial Hall, but we find lately that some of our 
citizens do not know where Memorial Hall is, and have 
never been there. 

They leave to those who toil for six days in the week 
the privilege of seeing and enjoying what they, if they 
would, could see on all days. But we are thankful for 
the opening of the Hall on the afternoon of the day of 
rest, and glad that men seek their rest with their wives 
and children there on Sunday afternoons. 

The other branch of the institution, the School of 
Industrial Art, had not made so favorable a beginning. 
The work of the trustees had been arduous. There 
was no suitable building ready for the School, and it 
was opened in rooms which were unsanitary and con- 
tained in 1883 only seventeen pupils. The Associate 


Committee suggested that a larger building was neces- 
sary to the success of the School, and finally agreed 
to give two entertainments to assist the Trustees in pur- 
chasing a new home for its accommodation. The profits 
of these two entertainments amounted to fourteen thou- 
sand dollars, and the larger part of this sum was given 
to the Trustees towards the purchase of the house 1336 
Spring Garden Street. The Trustees completed the 
purchase, and then the usefulness of the School was 
fully demonstrated. The textile branch of the insti- 
tution was opened, and has proved a most important 

After the opening of the School at 1336 Spring Gar- 
den Street the number of pupils increased greatly, and 
although other buildings for its accommodation had 
been added, still there was a demand for more room. 
In 1S93 the building formerly occupied by the deaf and 
dumb was for sale. One generous citizen, Mr. William 
Weightman, promised to give us one hundred thousand 
dollars towards its purchase if the Trustees and the Asso- 
ciate Committee of Women would secure a like sum. This 
they did, and the purchase of the property was concluded, 
leaving, it is true, a mortgage for some generous citizen 
in this or future generations to wipe out. 

The efforts of those having the interests of the insti- 
tution at heart have continued unabated, their object 
being twofold, first the desire that the School should 
be the equal if not the superior of any like institution 
in the country, and next that the whole State of Penn- 
sylvania should feel an honest pride in having such 
a school within its borders. We may safely say that the 
first of these objects has been accomplished, in proof 


of which we give the following endorsement from for- 
eign educators of the highest standing: 

Mr. Jules Steeg, Inspector-General of Education in 
France and Director of the Pedagogical Museum, said 
on visiting the School in 1893, that he would be glad 
to transfer the entire exhibit of this School, in the Chi- 
cago Exhibition, to the Pedagogical Museum in Paris. 
And another Inspector, Mr. Edward Martin, said, " We 
have no school in France doing work of such variety 
and excellence as we find here." Professor Langowoj, 
of the Technological Institute in St. Petersburg and 
Director of the new Textile School being built by the 
Russian government, gave this testimony : " Nothing 
which I have seen in America has interested me as the 
work in this School; I should have felt well repaid 
if I had made the journey from Russia to America for 
the sole purpose of visiting it." Its graduates are scat- 
tered all over our country, spreading, through their work, 
the knowledge of a school which in 1883 held seventeen 
scholars, and wdiich in 1900 gives instruction to eight 
hundred and thirty-two pupils of both sexes. Every 
graduate of June, 1900, now fills a profitable position. 

While there are many citizens in Pennsylvania who 
are glad to show their appreciation of the School, there 
are others who are entirely indifferent to its advantages. 
One free scholarship is given to each county in the State, 
and these scholarships are filled through the legislators. 

The Mayor and Councils of the city of Philadelphia 
have been generous. Several free scholarships are 
granted yearly to the city authorities, which they gladly 
fill, and generous appropriations are made by them to the 


We passed the summer of 1882 in Newport that my 
daughter might continue the lessons of several of her 
pupils whose summer homes were there. Late in August 
I had a visit from Mr. Nathan Appleton, of Boston. 
He asked us to come to Boston to attend the opening 
ceremonies of an International Exhibition which was 
about to be held there. He told me that addresses would 
be made on the occasion by descendants of both John 
Jay and John Adams, but that the Committee in charge 
had not been able to secure the services of a descendant 
of Benjamin Franklin, but would be glad if I would 
be present and so represent my family. This I agreed 
to do with pleasure. The occasion to be celebrated was 
the conclusion of the framing of the treaty of peace 
between England and America. The treaty was not 
signed by the three commissioners until September 3, 
1783, but now, as then, great events are anticipated. 
Our Peace Jubilee in Philadelphia was given in 1898 
in anticipation of the close of the war with Spain! 

My daughter and I reached Boston early in the morn- 
ing and went at once to the Exhibition Building. We 
found the larger part of the seats filled with visitors, 
but four rows of benches in front were not occupied. 
I walked to them, there being no ushers in sight, and 
we sat down. I then discovered that there were placards 
on the seats bearing the words, " For Distinguished 
Strangers." Almost immediately a gentleman ap- 
proached with a large rosette on the left side of his coat 
and called my attention to the words of the placard with 
many apologies. I answered him by saying, " The no- 
tice caused me to sit here. We are the great-grand- 
children of Benjamin Franklin and specially invited to 


be present on this occasion." The gentleman left, and 
soon returned with Mr. Appleton, who gave us a cordial 
welcome. After some time the Managers of the Ex- 
hibition entered in procession, followed by the speakers, 
one a Chinese dignitary dressed in a robe of sky-blue 
silk. He afterwards made an address in his own tongue. 

The address of Mr. Jay was much applauded. He 
described the difficulties which had attended the con- 
clusion of the treaty, and obligingly added that but little 
assistance could be given by Benjamin Franklin on ac- 
count of his extreme age. Mr. Adams in his address 
went still further, and left in the minds of his hearers 
the impression that Dr. Franklin's intellect was impaired, 
and that the treaty had been concluded by the efforts 
of the two other commissioners. I could scarcely sit 
silent, for I knew that no history of the conclusion of 
this great treaty had ever given an impression of the 
failing intellectual power of Benjamin Franklin, and that 
even after his return to America he had held the office 
of " President of Pennsylvania," and was chosen one of 
the framers of the Constitution of the United States, 
both which positions he filled to the great satisfaction 
of his constituents. We left Boston after the " Opening 
Day" of the Exhibition. I saw a friend of mine in 
New York, who told me he had seen in the New York 
Herald that I had spoken at the opening of the Exhibi- 
tion. I assured him that I had not done so, but was 
proud to think that the gentleman from the Celestial 
Empire In the beautiful sky-blue dress had been taken 
for me! 

We spent the summer of 1883 in Marion, Massachusetts, 
on Buzzard's Bay, where my cousin, Admiral Harwood, 


had already established a home. He and his daughter 
were the loadstones that drew us there, as they had also 
drawn Mr, and Mrs. Richard Watson Gilder. My 
daughter bought a lot, and there we built our cottage. 
A very few years brought to us as our near neighbors 
Hon. Grover Cleveland and his wife. The respect and 
affection which grew up for them then has never left 
us. Mrs. Gilder arranged for her " studio" an old stone 
store-house, in which she opened a huge fireplace, where 
the logs burned brightly when she gathered around her 
her friends on Saturday evenings most informally. Those 
evenings still live in grateful memory. 

There we first met our own much-respected fellow- 
townsman, Joseph Jefferson. The same charm which 
attracts all to him in his public life binds to him those 
who are privileged to call him " friend." He carries 
with him the power to convince little children that the 
character he portrays on the stage is living and before 

A friend of ours took several children belonging to 
her friends to see " Rip van Winkle." When the long 
sleep of Rip was over, one of the little boys turned to 
her and said, "Was he asleep twenty years?" "Yes," 
was the answer, and the boy cried out, " Where, then, 
is my mother?" 

Shortly after Mr. Cleveland removed to " Buzzard's 
Bay" the people of Sandwich invited him to hold a 
reception, in order that his new neighbors might become 
acquainted with him. The reception was followed by 
a dinner, and some of the people in Marion were invited 
to join in the festivities. Miss Harwood and I went 
with other friends by train from Marion, stopping at 


" Buzzard's Bay" for the governor of Massachusetts and 
Mr. Cleveland. When we reached Sandwich, we found 
an open carriage awaiting Mr. Cleveland, but he and 
the governor preferred to walk to the hall, and we were 
invited to take the carriage. I saw that the driver of 
the carriage was dissatisfied, and we were barely seated 
when he turned and said, " Well, as often as Grover 
Cleveland has been to this town I have driven him about, 
and I don't like this." I was determined to soothe his 
spirit, and after a moment said, " A good grandson has 
Grover been to me. I never mislaid a knitting-needle 
that he did not seek until he found it." The driver gazed 
benignly on me; I was pleased, and certain we would 
not be upset on our way, and proud to be considered 
even for ten minutes the grandmother of the man who 
has my profound respect and esteem. 

In 1883 we had the pleasure to see for the first time 
Mr. Irving and Miss Ellen Terry. Their art was a 
revelation to me. I had heard from many English 
friends of the added charm the plays of Shakespeare 
have through the rendering of these two great artists, 
but seeing them in " Much Ado About Nothing" opened 
my eyes to the fact that the English are not always 
boastful of their belongings and that their pride in them 
was just. That pride has since then been gratified 
through the honors heaped upon them by Her Majesty 
the Queen of England. Even we Americans rejoice 
in the title conferred upon Mr. Irving, which changed 
him to " Sir Henry Irving," for though we long ago 
put away titles as " vain and empty things," we have 
come out of this humble mood, and are hunting up our 
ancestors with as much eagerness as gold and precious 


stones are sought for by both EngHsh and Americans. 
We number among our friends Sir Henry Irving and 
Miss Terry, and during each visit they have made to 
America we have had the pleasure to entertain them in 
our own home. Once Miss Terry spent a week with 
us to our great pleasure, and we believe to her satis- 
faction and comfort. 

We have had several suppers " after the play" which 
have given delight to others than ourselves, the friends 
invited to meet them. I have always believed that our 
minds are clearest and best at midnight, and these little 
revels have convinced me I am right. Sir Henry has 
often spoken to us of the early days of his life as an 
actor, and once when we were speaking of Miss Charlotte 
Cushman he told us of a kind lesson she gave him when 
she bore the part of " Meg Merrilies" and he the part of 
" Ravenswood." She told him that she noticed when 
the beggar approached him asking for alms he had put 
his hand into his pocket and given the first coin he had 
reached. Miss Cushman said such a course was not 
natural. He should have taken out a handful of coins, 
and with his other hand searched for the smallest coin 
he had and bestowed that one on the suppliant. Many 
were the charming things he told us of his professional 
life. It was not only like getting behind the scenes at 
a good play, but like looking into the souls of those who 
can interpret Shakespeare as only Sir Henry Irving and 
Miss Terry have been given the power to do. 

The death of Mr. George W. Childs took place during 
the visit of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry to Philadelphia 
in 1894. They took supper with us on that evening; 
Dr. Horace Howard Furness, the great Shakespeare 


scholar, was also our guest, and our thoughts naturally 
drifted to the death of the man who had been a stead- 
fast friend to many and also a public benefactor, and 
who had won, through the honesty and purity of his 
own life, the respect and affection of all classes in the 
community. Miss Terry and Dr. Furness left us after 
supper, but Mr. Irving stayed with us, and asked for 
a volume of Shakespeare that he might read some pas- 
sages from " Troilus and Cressida" of which the death 
of Mr. Childs reminded him. 

He read to us until very early in the morning, and 
when he left us we were glad that the dawn of day 
was colored with so rich a memory. 

In 1886 my daughter was married to Dr. Edward 
Parker Davis, of Chicago, now (1901) filling the chair 
of Professor of Obstetrics in Jefferson College. The 
wedding took place at Christ Church. There were only 
two bridesmaids, my niece, Anne Duane, and Eleanor 
de Graff Cuyler, who were late in arriving at the church 
in consequence of the hind wheel of the carriage they 
were in leaving them on the road. In their dire need 
they took refuge in a candy-shop. The bridesmaids 
remained there, my niece endeavoring to persuade the 
proprietor of the shop that his path of duty lay in pro- 
curing another carriage at once, using as an argument 
that the marriage could not go on without the brides- 
maids. The proprietor, feeling that his duty lay in 
standing by his candy, declined the proposition, but my 
nephew, James May Duane, who was with the brides- 
maids in their downfall, comforted them with the as- 
surance that the coachman would soon bring another 
carriage. This he did. They reached the church agi- 


tated and out of breath, and the marriage proceeded. 
The solemn service was performed by the Rev. Alex- 
ander Vinton, our former much-beloved pastor in Phila- 
delphia. My daughter had been an orphan for many 
years, and I being her nearest of kin, preferred to " give 
her away" myself, which I did. The ceremony was 
naturally a most solemn one to me. The Church con- 
secrates the holy ordinance, rendering it too sacred a 
tie to be broken in life. 

Our relatives and intimate friends returned home with 
us after the wedding, and when they were leaving many 
of them said, "How well everything has gone off!" 
Having recovered then my composure and my interest 
in joking, I said, " Yes, everything, even the wheel of 
the bridesmaids' carriage!" Thus ended that eventful 
day, but the happiness it brought to us all remains. 

In 1890 active preparations were being made for the 
four hundredth anniversary of the landing of Columbus, 
through the World's Fair, to be held in Chicago in 1893. 
The assistance of the women of Pennsylvania was asked 
by the governor of the State and also by Mrs. Potter 
Palmer, the head of the Women's Department in Chicago. 
All the assistance in our power was cheerfully rendered, 
and when we were told that five million dollars were 
appropriated for this Exhibition by the United States 
government, our pride knew no bounds, for this proved 
that our work in 1876 had been useful to the country 
at large, and that taught by experience, the government 
found it profitable to make the appropriation as a gift, 
instead of a loan of one million five hundred thousand 
dollars, which were accorded Philadelphia in 1876, every 
cent of which was returned to the national treasury after 


the close of the Exhibition. Nothing was omitted on 
the part of the women, East, North, and South, to make 
the World's Fair in Chicago perfect. The women artists 
who were just beginning to creep in 1876 were now 
walking heads erect, with the proud consciousness that 
through their efforts women had made progress. 

Early in 1892 a proposition came from New York 
to Pennsylvania, through Mrs. Cadwalader Jones, that 
relics of colonial times should be gathered and put on 
exhibition in Chicago. This idea was grasped eagerly, 
especially by the Societies of Colonial Dames. The 
governor of Pennsylvania appointed me to be the man- 
ager of the work in Pennsylvania. I began by writing 
to the larger towns to those persons who were old set- 
tlers. The success I met with was great and most 
inspiring. Before the matter had gone far the women 
in the several States began to wonder what we should 
do with regard to the insurance of these precious pos- 
sessions, and then we found that the building in which 
they were to be placed was not fire-proof. We then 
determined to ask permission to place the cases pre- 
pared for them in the United States Government Build- 
ing, which was fire-proof. The consent of the President, 
Hon, Grover Cleveland, was given to this plan, our 
cases were already built for the exhibits and all went 
well. But when the articles which trusting souls had 
sent to me were gathered together under my own roof, 
I felt the heavy responsibility I had incurred, and 
determined to watch the packing and unpacking of 
everything intrusted to me both in Philadelphia and 

This plan I carried out. I sent seven large cases full 


of " Breeches Bibles," swords, rifles, silver and pewter 
teapots, etc. ; one epaulette which had once graced the 
shoulder of General Washington, and the shoe-buckles 
worn by Benjamin Franklin, were there side by side, 
as were once the wearers in their arduous work for 
our sakes. I watched the Pennsylvania case for some 
time after it was locked, and was repaid by hearing a 
man say to his wife, " I would have taken the thousand- 
mile journey from my home to see the contents of these 
cases alone." I felt then that my labor and anxiety 
had not been in vain. 

In the autumn of 1892 the buildings for the great 
Exhibition were dedicated. The Managers invited one 
woman from each of the colonial States to be present 
on the occasion. This invitation was accepted. I was 
chosen to represent Pennsylvania. We reached Chi- 
cago on the evening before the dedication was to occur, 
and were most courteously received by a special com- 
mittee. After we reached our hotel we were asked to 
be ready the next morning at an early hour, as the 
procession to the Exhibition grounds, of which our car- 
riages were to form a part, would move shortly after 
eight o'clock. We were ready, and entered the open 
carriages prepared for us in the order in which the 
States we represented had entered the American Union. 
We moved slowly, often pausing to let the military enter 
the procession ahead of our carriages. During one of 
these pauses a little boy ran out from the crowd which 
lined the road, came to the side of the carriage in which 
I sat, and pointing his finger at me, said, '' Say, was 
you here when it was discovered?" He took me evi- 
dently for a near relative of Christopher Columbus, 



which certainly was a compliment; but while I smiled 
at the youth and said, " Yes, is it not pleasant?" my 
companions in the carriage were convulsed with laughter. 
We reached the Buildings about one o'clock. The dedi- 
cation of them was most impressive and the music was 
fine. The beauty of that scene that has often been de- 
scribed by abler pens than mine, the buildings, their 
situation and surroundings, will never be forgotten. 

When the Exhibition was about to close I returned to 
Chicago to repack the precious relics, and found all in 
good order, but the place almost deserted except by ex- 
hibitors. I lost time because my packing-boxes could 
not easily be found, enjoying meanwhile the beautiful 
scene before me outside the buildings and thinking of 
the shortness of all things human ; a few belated visitors 
passed me, among them two whom I was sure were 
bride and groom. They stopped close to me on a bridge, 
and looking down, the bride said, " Here is where we 
stood and fed the lagoons." 

I left Chicago with regret, for I had been most hos- 
pitably and kindly entertained there, but I was grateful 
to find all the precious articles intrusted to me. They 
were sent to my own home, and returned from there 
to their owners. 

In March, 1891, a committee of American women in 
the city of New York informed one of the officers of 
the Pennsylvania Historical Society in Philadelphia that 
they had organized in New York a society consisting 
of descendants of colonial ancestors, under the title of 
" The Colonial Dames of America," and that they would 
be glad to have the co-operation of some of the women 
in Philadelphia who had the same right of descent. 


Quite a large number of Philadelphia Dames, who had 
the right to organize through services rendered to the 
government in colonial times by their ancestors, met 
as a " Pennsylvania Society of Colonial Dames," and 
after several meetings added the word " National" as a 
prefix to their title. They communicated with the New 
York society, and (I think) invited a conference with 
the Dames in New York. The result was that two 
members of the New York society came to Philadelphia 
and submitted to Pennsylvania their plan for the future. 
This was, that their organization was to bear the name 
of the New York society, the Pennsylvania branch being 
invited as a " Chapter" to the first-named society. This 
did not at all agree with the plan already adopted by 
the Pennsylvania organizers, which was to establish a 
society based as far as possible on the plan of our national 
government. Other propositions were submitted by the 
New York society, which were not accepted by the Penn- 
sylvania society, and the meeting ended without the 
union which both societies had desired. 

After this the Pennsylvania society met several times, 
a large majority deciding to adhere to the plan which 
they had originally adopted, which was to create a 
" national society," and to invite the co-operation of 
those having the birthright to call themselves Colonial 
Dames of America in all the States then in the Union. 
A small minority of the Pennsylvania Dames preferred 
to hold their allegiance to the New York society under 
the title of " Pennsylvania Chapter," and to this prefer- 
ence no objection could be urged. 

A written statement of the plans of the Pennsylvania 
Society of Colonial Dames of America was sent at once 


to New York, with a cordial invitation to the members 
in New York to co-operate with them on terms of perfect 
equality for all, in the endeavor to rouse the spirit of 
patriotism in our people which for a time apparently 
had slept. 

To this communication no answer was returned. 
Meantime, the first initiation fees and annual dues of 
the Pennsylvania society had been deposited in bank 
under the title of " National Society of Colonial Dames." 
In other States some Dames had accepted the invitation 
to unite with Pennsylvania, but the incorporation of 
the Pennsylvania society was delayed, hoping each day 
for a reply from New York. At last it came in the 
shape of an announcement that the New York society 
was incorporated by the Legislature of the State of New 
York. We then proceeded, and were incorporated in 
1 89 1, Mrs. Alexander Biddle accepting the office of 
President for one year. Delaware and Maryland fol- 
lowed us closely, those States securing their incorpora- 
tion also in 1891. Other societies were formed (in 
perfect accord with the motives which actuated the Dames 
in Pennsylvania), and in 1892 New Jersey, Rhode Island, 
Virginia, and the District of Columbia entered the ranks 
of the " national society" and were incorporated. In 
1893 we had the happiness to welcome to our national 
organization a society formed in New York under the 
wise and prudent guidance of Mrs, Howard Townsend. 
Its members consisted in part of " Dames" who had 
been originally members of the society incorporated in 
the State of New York in 1891, but who had retired from 
that society because the national society seemed more 
likely to be helpful, especially in fostering patriotism, 


by various means, in all classes. Societies were also 
formed in 1893 in Massachusetts, Connecticut, and South 
Carolina, and in 1894 North Carolina, New Hampshire, 
and Georgia also became part of the national organiza- 
tion, which then happily included all the colonial States 
and the District of Columbia. 

In the year 1892 Mrs. George Dawson Coleman, the 
President of the Pennsylvania society, was elected Presi- 
dent of the national society, and was succeeded in 1894 
by Mrs. Howard Townsend, of New York. Meantime, 
patriotic work was going on in each and all the States. 
Women in many of them were roused to work that the 
youth of our country should be more wise in their day 
and generation than we had been in ours. We were 
teaching them the value of the old landmarks and build- 
ings made sacred through the presence of those who 
established the government of the country. In Phila- 
delphia we instituted the marking of the 14th of June 
as " Flag Day," because on that day the design for the 
United States flag was chosen and the first flag made 
by Betsy Ross in 1776. We have since celebrated yearly 
this anniversary by teaching the children of the public 
schools what the day means. Our next work was to 
question the propriety of placing in Independence Square 
the large equestrian statue of General Washington, pre- 
sented by the Society of the Cincinnati to the city, and 
now in Fairmount Park. Mrs. Coleman, our President, 
called us together and recommended us to secure signa- 
tures to petitions to the Mayor asking him to refuse to 
approve the bill (which had already passed Councils) 
authorizing the act. 

We willingly obeyed the wishes of our President, and 


when a large number of signatures had been obtained, 
Mrs. Coleman asked an audience with the Mayor for 
the Board of the Philadelphia society. 

This was granted. We presented ourselves at the 
Mayor's office at the appointed time. When we entered 
we found several members of the Society of the Cin- 
cinnati present, accompanied by two well-known lawyers. 
This was more than we had expected, as we had no 
counsel with us ; but unabashed and feeling that we had 
right on our side, Mrs. Coleman presented our petitions 
and urged the propriety of leaving the old " State House 
Yard" as it stood in 1776. 

We had been told that fourteen of the old trees must 
be removed to make room for the monument, and we 
urged that as a reason for the monument not being 
placed there. Our society called attention to the fact 
that many of our most prominent and useful citizens had 
signed our petition, and entreated the Mayor to heed 
their request. Meantime, one of the lawyers had secured 
a volume of Watson's " Annals of Philadelphia," and 
from it read, " In 1777 trees were planted in Indepen- 
dence Square." He argued from this fact that the trees 
were not old, and therefore there was no sentiment 
attached to them; but a member of the society asked 
whether there were not trees in the Square when the 
trees were planted in 1777 to which sentiment did belong? 
This question the learned gentleman could not answer. 
In a few days we were informed that the Mayor had 
signed the bill from Councils, and the monument would 
be placed in Independence Square. We were sorry; 
but the next session of Councils changed the whole mat- 
ter and decided that the monument should go to the 


Park, where it now stands to the dehght of all who 
see it. 

This was our first great work in Philadelphia. Al- 
though apparently unsuccessful, the result was all we 
had desired, and we still think that had we not moved 
in the matter and secured the support of many respect- 
able citizens, the monument might now have held a 
place in Independence Square. 

Since then the Daughters of the American Revolution 
have restored the interior of Independence Hall and 
given back to us its original appearance before the Revo- 
lutionary War. I have the honor to be a Life-Member 
of this Society. 

The Pennsylvania Society of Colonial Dames of 
America have rendered a like service in the building 
called Congress Hall, which adjoins the Hall of Inde- 

In this building the Second Congress of our country 
held its sessions, and in the Senate chamber our first 
President made his Farewell Address. 

The public authorities of Philadelphia granted to the 
Pennsylvania Society of Colonial Dames the use of the 
Senate chamber, and also gave the society permission 
to restore it, so that it should remain open for all time 
to our own people and to others. Crowds of visitors 
come there constantly from all quarters of the earth, 
and are justly proud to leave their names in the register 
prepared for them. Human nature calls out for free- 
dom, and here mankind may come and taste the fruits 
of civil and religious liberty. 

The National Society of the Colonial Dames of Amer- 
ica in New York have made greater strides in the work 


of restoring old historic landmarks than have we in 
Pennsylvania, for they have been accorded substantial 
aid from their State government. The honored head 
of their society, Mrs, Howard Townsend, went herself 
to Albany and secured the consent of the government 
to a proposition for the restoration of the old Van Cort- 
land mansion. This was done. I was present when this 
work was completed, and the keys of the mansion were 
handed to Mrs. Townsend by the Secretary of the gov- 
ernment, with a lease of the property for twenty-five 
years. Since then the Legislature has appropriated a 
handsome sum for the restoration of the old Dutch gar- 
dens which are near the mansion. 

But this is not the only work which has come under 
the careful guidance and foresight of the head of our 
National Society. She it is who aroused in the non- 
colonial States the desire of women of colonial ancestry 
to unite with us in our plans for usefulness. These 
women have assembled in their various States and with 
hearty good will and energy are employed as we are. 
They trace their ancestry in their parent States, and 
when their own respectability and their eligibility are 
entirely proven, they are one with us, and we are in 
entire sympathy with their work. 

The National Society of Colonial Dames of America 
held its Biennial Council in Washington in April, 1900. 
It consisted of delegates from all the colonial States 
and from the District of Columbia and eighteen of the 
non-colonial States. Harmony prevailed among the 
members, though the " many women had many minds." 
Our national President was unanimously re-elected, and 
when we all separated we gave thanks that we had for 


our leader a gentlewoman who was " wise as a serpent 
and harmless as a dove." 

The old historic house near Philadelphia called " Sten- 
ton," the property of the Logan family, has been leased 
by its owners to the Pennsylvania Society of Colonial 
Dames. The tenants have entirely repaired the build- 
ing. It stands now as it did when General Washington 
and Benjamin Franklin were guests under its roof, gra- 
ciously and kindly entertained by their hostess, " Deb- 
orah Logan." In fine weather it is open to visitors. 
There the patriotic citizen, the uneasy, or unscrupulous 
politician, and the loyal American may find rest from the 
world, and perhaps also inspiration as to the best, safest, 
and most honest method for being true to their country, 
and through their fellow-men true to their God. 

And now the hour has come which binds together 
the old year and the new. It is a solemn moment for 
me. It tells of the beginning of a new century and 
of the ending of another through four-fifths of which 
I have lived. 

To the new-comer I bid " Good-morrow, God be with 
you !" while to you, my friends, I say " God bless you, 
and farewell !" 

January i, 1901. 


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